MOLIERE 


PLAYS  BY 
PHILIP  MOELLER 

MADAME  SAND 

FIVE  SOMEWHAT  HISTORICAL  PLAYS 

MOLIERE 


MOLIERE 

A  Romantic  Play 
in  Three  Acts 


by 

PHILIP  MOELLER 


New  York 

ALFRED  •  A  •  KNOPF 
MCMXBt 


COPYRIGHT,  1919,  BY 
PHILIP  MOELLER 


In  their  present  form  these  plays  are  dedicated  to  the 
reading  public  only,  and  no  performances  of  them  may  be 
given  without  the  permission  of  the  author  who  may  be 
addressed  in  care  of  the  publisher.  Any  piracy  or  infringe 
ment  will  be  prosecuted  in  accordance  with  the  penalties 
provided  by  the  United  States  Statutes:  — 

Sec.  4966. —  Any  person  publicly  performing  or  represent 
ing  any  dramatic  or  musical  composition,  for  which  copy 
right  has  been  obtained,  without  the  consent  of  the  proprie 
tor  of  the  said  dramatic  or  musical  composition,  or  his  heirs 
or  assigns,  shall  be  liable  for  damages  therefor,  such  dam 
ages  in  all  cases  to  be  assessed  at  such  sum,  not  less  than 
one  hundred  dollars  for  the  first  and  fifty  dollars  for  every 
subsequent  performance,  as  to  the  Court  shall  appear  to  be 
just.  If  the  unlawful  performance  and  representation  be 
wilful  and  for  profit,  such  person  or  persons  shall  be  guilty 
of  a  misdemeanor,  and  upon  conviction  be  imprisoned  for  a 
period  not  exceeding  one  year. —  U.  S.  Revised  Statutes 
Title  60,  Chap.  3. 


PRINTED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES    O*    AMERICA 


Gratefully 

to 

Henry  Miller 

with  thanks  for  his 

sympathetic  help 

in  the  making 

of  my  play 


393759 


WEEK  COMMENCING  FEBRUARY  24, 1919 

MATINEES   WEDNESDAY   AND   SATURDAY 

HENRY  MILLER 
BLANCHE  BATES 
HOLBROOK  BLINN 
ESTELLE  WINWOOD 

IN 

"MOLIERE" 

A  PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS 
BY  PHILIP  MOELLER 

THE  CHARACTERS  IN  ACT  I.  ARE: 

BARON,  a  young  member  of  Moliere's  company .... 

JAMES  P.  HAGEN 
LA  FOREST,  Moliere's  cook  and  friend .  .  ALICE  GALE 

ARMANDE  BEJART,  Moliere's  wife 

ESTELLE  WINWOOD 

MOLIERE HENRY  MILLER 

COLINGE,  an  old  actor FORREST  ROBINSON 

DE  LUZON,  a  courtier FREDERICK  ROLAND 

THE   KING'S   CHAMBERLAIN WILLARD   BARTON 

LOUIS  XIV.,  King  of  France HOLBROOK  BLINN 

FRANCOISE,    MARQUISE    DE    MONTESPAN,    the 

King's  Mistress BLANCHE  BATES 

LA  FONTAINE SIDNEY  HERBERT 

The  scene  is  Moliere's  study  in  his  theatre  at  the 
Palais  Royal,  Paris. 

The  time  is  a  morning  in  September,  1672. 


PROGRAM  OF  THE  FIRST  PERFORMANCE,  FEBRUARY  24, 1919 
AT  FORD'S  THEATRE,  BALTIMORE,  MD. 


THE  CHARACTERS  IN  ACT  II.  ARE: 

LA  FONTAINE SIDNEY  HERBERT 

FRANCOISE,  MARQUISE  DE  MONTESPAN 

BLANCHE  BATES 
HERCULES,  a  black  boy,  page  to  Madame  de  Mon- 

tespan REMO    BUFANO 

GIOVANNI  LULLI,  the  court  musician.  .PAUL  DOUCET 

FIRST  LADY  IN  WAITING  TO  DE  MONTESPAN 

MARY  PYNE 
SECOND  LADY  IN  WAITING  TO  DE  MONTESPAN 

MARGERY  CARD 

A  LACKEY WILLIAM  ROBINS 

MOLIERE HENRY   MILLER 

LOUIS  XIV HOLBROOK  BLINN 

The  scene  is  the  apartments  of  Madame  de  Mon- 
tespan. 

The  time  is  twilight  of  the  same  day  as  Act  I. 

THE  CHARACTERS  IN  ACT  III.  ARE: 

CLAUDE  CHAPELLE,  a  friend  of  Moliere 

VINCENT  CHAMBERS 

LA  FONTAINE , SIDNEY  HERBERT 

LA  FOREST ALICE  GALE 

A  DOCTOR WALLACE  ROBERTS 

COLINGE FORREST  ROBINSON 

BARON JAMES  P.  HAGEN 

MOLIERE HENRY   MILLER 

ARMANDE  BE  J  ART. ESTELLE   WIN  WOOD 

THE  KING'S  CHAMBERLAIN WILLARD  BARTON 

LOUIS  XIV HOLBROOK  BLINN 

The  scene  is  the  same  as  Act  I. 

The  time  is  before,  during  and  after  the  fourth  per- 
formance  of  Moliere's  "Imaginary  Invalid,"  February, 
1673. 

During  Act  III.  the  curtain  is  lowered  to  denote  the 
passing  of  two  hours'  time. 


Scenery  designed  by  Lee  Simonson.  Costumes  de 
signed  by  Rollo  Peters  and  executed  by  Mme.  Freisinger, 
Incidental  music  composed  by  Cassius  Freeborn. 


ACT  1 


THE  CHARACTERS  IN  ACT  I  ARE 

BARON,  a  lad  of  seventeen,  a  member  of  Molieres 
Company. 

LA  FOREST,  a  woman  of  sixty-eight,  Molieres  cook 
and  friend. 

ARMANDE  BEJART,  Molieres  wife. 

JEAN  BAPTISTS  POQUELIN,  known  to  the  world  as 
Moliere. 

COLINGE,  an  old  actor,  a  member  of  the  troupe 
since  the  beginning. 

DE  LAUZUN,  a  young  Courtier. 

THE  KING'S  CHAMBERLAIN. 

Louis  XIV,  King  of  France. 

FRANCOISE  ATHENAIS  DE  MONTESPAN,  the  King's 
Mistress. 

LA  FONTAINE,  the  Writer  of  the  Fables, 

and 

Several  Courtiers  and  one  or  two  Ladies  in  Wait 
ing  to  de  Montespan. 

The  scene  is  Moliere  s  Study  in  his  Theatre  at  the 
Palais  Royal  in  Paris. 

The  time  of  the  action  of  Act  I  is  the  morning  of 
a  day  in  September,  1672. 


ACT  I 

MOLIERE'S  study  in  his  theatre  at  the  Palais  Royal. 
A  room  of  quiet  magnificence  and  careful 
luxury.  About  are  beautiful  bits  of  furniture 
and  in  the  walls  shelves  from  which  gleam  the 
silent  faces  of  the  best  in  books.  In  a  corner 
is  an  antique  chest  from  which  hang  the  ends 
of  rich  costumes.  In  the  centre  the  work 
table  of  the  Master  on  which  is  a  pile  of 
sheets  of  an  unfinished  masterpiece.  A  door 
down  right  leads  to  the  entrance  from  the 
street.  In  back  in  the  centre  is  the  door  to 
Moliere's  dressing  room.  In  the  left  wall, 
down  front,  is  a  big  door  giving  on  the  stage 
of  the  theatre.  The  room  is  flooded  with 
sunlight  that  streams  in  thru  the  mullioned 
windows  and  one  is  open  and  a  piercing  shaft 
of  light  falls  upon  the  corner  of  the  table 
where  lies  the  manuscript  of  "The  Misan 
thrope."  In  a  corner  of  the  room  are  some 
empty  bottles  and  two  or  three  hampers  from 
the  pastry-cook,  the  remnants  of  the  feast  of 
the  night  before.  When  the  curtain  lifts 


10  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

BARON  is  discovered  asleep  in  the  window 
niche.  A  church  bell  from  a  neighbouring 
tower  sounds  ten.  A  seller  of  cakes  passing 
in  the  streets  cries  his  wares.  A  bell  in  the 
farther  distance  sounds  the  hour.  The  boy 
sits  up  and  rubs  his  eyes.  "Cakes,  pastries," 
calls  the  voice  of  the  vendor. 

BARON 

[Leaning  out  of  the  window.] 
Are  you  calling  me?     What?     What? 

THE  VOICE 
Cakes,  Madeleines,  delicious  pastries. 

BARON 

None,  good-morning,  thank  you,  I'm  too  full  of 
last  night. 

[The  voice  dies  away  in  the  distance  and 
the  boy  yawningly  falls  back  to  sleep.  A  mo 
ment  later  LA  FOREST  enters  and  begins  bus 
tling  about  arranging  the  room  in  order.  The 
sight  of  the  hampers  and  the  bottles  angers 
her.  At  first  she  does  not  see  BARON  but  as 
she  passes  the  window  niche  he  moves  in  his 
sleep.] 

LA  FOREST 
Wake  up,  it's  past  the  hour. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  11 

BARON 
[Sitting  up.] 
Eh? 

LA  FOREST 
Out  with  you  now. 

BARON 

Here's  where  I  fell  asleep  in  die  midst  of  the 
party  yesterday  evening. 

LA  FOREST 

Well,  yesterday  evening's  over.  It's  a  wonder 
what  he  has  you  about  for  at  all,  drinking  his  wine 
and  wasting  his  hours. 

BARON 

Why  shouldn't  I  be  here?  Have  you  forgotten 
I'm  a  member  of  the  troupe  of  Moliere? 

LA  FOREST 

La,  la,  you  little  upstart!  If  I  had  my  way  I'd 
spank  you  to  death,  hang  you  out  to  dry  and  then 
send  you  off  for  a  year  to  make  love  to  the  cows  in 
Scotland. 

BARON 

There's  likelier  meat  for  love  right  here  in  Paris. 
And  besides,  I'll  not  be  answered  by  you.  I'm  an 
artist  £nd  you're  only  a  cook. 


12  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

LA  FOREST 

[Laughing.] 

An  artist,  indeed,  you  and  your  seventeen  years. 
One  would  think  you  as  great  as  the  master. 

BARON 

Some  day,  perhaps,  I'll  be  greater. 

LA  FOREST 
Some  day  I'll  be  Queen  of  France. 

BARON 

Not  with  your  face,  my  darling,  though  I  tell  you 
the  queen  is  no  beauty.  But  Madame  de  Monte- 
span,  ah,  she  is  as  fair  as  the  day.  Do  you  know 
what  they're  whispering  of  her,  my  nymph  of  the 
pantries? 

LA  FOREST 

No,  get  up  and  get  out. 

BARON 

It's  this,  my  princess  of  stews.  [Then  very 
mysteriously.]  They  say  that  whilst  she  gives 
gifts  to  one  Moliere's  wife,  she'd  rather  be  giving 
her  love  to  Moliere. 

LA  FOREST 

Begone  now,  you  with  your  dirty  talk  of  the 
courts. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  13 

BARON 

When  you're  as  wise  as  I,  La  Forest,  you  will 
know  that  the  Court  and  its  master,  the  King,  is 
the  sun  by  which  we  live,  all  of  us,  even  the  great 
Moliere. 

LA  FOREST 

The  great  Moliere,  indeed.  God  help  him. 
He  ought  to  be  off  in  the  country  getting  the  good 
of  the  air  and  not  here  in  the  stench  of  the  Court 
and  the  stench  of  the  city,  and  up  'till  dawn  with 
you  and  the  others.  Madame,  his  wife,  was  sing 
ing,  I  suppose? 

BARON 

Like  the  lifting  lark  till  the  bells  rang  four  and 
I  tumbled  off  to  sleep.  Where's  your  master? 

LA  FOREST 

Out  long  since.  He  was  pacing  his  room  till 
morning  and  now  he's  down  by  the  river  talking  to 
the  barge  men.  He  likes  to  mix  with  the  crowds 
when  there's  something  that  knocks  in  his  head  that 
he  doesn't  want  to  hear.  Madame  was  gay,  you 
say? 

BARON 
And  he,  he  too. 

LA  FOREST 
The  doctors  have  warned  him.     He's  always  so 


14  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

weary  when  you're  back  from  playing  at  the  palace 
and  then  up  till  dawn,  night  in  and  night  out.  If 
he'd  only  listen  to  me. 

BARON 

[Jeeringly.] 
You! 

LA  FOREST 

If  he  doesn't — well — 

BARON 

My  poor  La  Forest.  What  a  little  soul  is  yours! 
To  be  bothering  about  what  may  happen  when  life 
at  the  moment's  gay.  God  should  kill  all  ravens 
like  you  who  croak  when  the  sun  is  shining. 

LA  FOREST 

Maybe  you're  right,  my  lad.  Why,  look  how  the 
beams  hit  the  table  there  where  he  works.  Why, 
that's  a  good  omen.  [Then  at  the  table,  and  it 
might  be  a  shrine  at  which  she  stood]  Look,  the 
sunlight's  all  about  the  play  he's  writing. 

BARON 

[Untouched  by  the  beauty  of  her  elation.] 
I  hope  there's  a  fine  fat  part  for  me. 

LA  FOREST 
[Proudly.] 
I'm  to  hear  it  this  morning. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  15 

BARON 
You,  his  cook? 

LA  FOREST 

Yes,  I,  his  cook.  I  hear  what  he's  written  even 
before  the  King  of  France. 

BARON 

[With  a  wry  grimace,  touching  his  fore 
head.] 
There's  a  little  bit  wrong  with  the  wisest. 

LA  FOREST 

And  often  he'll  change  the  parts  that  don't  suit 
me. 

BARON 

And  if  he  doesn't,  I  suppose  you'll  put  poison  in 
his  broth?  Is  it  that,  or  tell  me  in  confidence,  does 
he  love  you? 

LA  FOREST 

I've  been  with  him  twenty  years  [And  her  voice 
is  quivering  a  little]  and  it's  I  do  the  loving. 
Twenty  years  and  now  I  know  there's  something 
eating  his  heart. 

BARON 

You  mean  the  talk  about  Madame  Armande? 

LA  FOREST 
[Swiftly.] 

There's  nothing  to  that. 


16  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

BARON 

Think  so,  my  friend?  Ah,  what  a  fool  is  the 
great  Moliere!  I  do  not  think  he  will  like  his 
crown  of  horns;  but  love  sees  all  and  love  sees 
nothing. 

LA  FOREST 
What  do  you  know  of  love? 

BARON 

I'm  only  seventeen  but  I've  had  four  affairs  to 
my  credit,  with  one  to  discredit  the  other  four,  for 
she  was  old  enough  to  be  the  aunt  of  my  mother's 
aunt.  What  a  mess  of  kissing  is  life,  La  Forest! 

LA  FOREST 

If  there  be  any  truth  in  this  talk  about  Madame, 
his  wife,  God  knows  what  will  happen.  No  one 
has  ever  loved  as  he. 

BARON 

Old  lady,  I  see  you're  determined  to  be  un 
happy  and  now  I'll  give  you  some  cause. 

LA  FOREST 
What? 

BARON 

Something  else,  my  dearie. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  17 

LA  FOREST 

What,  for  the  grace  of  God!  Has  there  been 
trouble  with  the  King? 

BARON 

Something  that  in  the  end  is  more  mighty  than 
that.  Come  closer  and  I'll  whisper  to  you. 

LA  FOREST 
What  is  it? 

BARON 

[Very  seriously.] 
I'm  thinking  of  leaving  the  troupe  of  Moliere. 

LA  FOREST 
So? 

BARON 

Do  you  think  he'll  be  able  to  survive  it? 

LA  FOREST 

Go.  and  good  riddance  to  you.  What  were  you, 
you  imp  of  the  gutter,  when  he  took  you  in  and 
made  you  a  member  of  the  troupe  of  Moliere? 

BARON 

[Strutting  about.] 

There's  a  shift  in  fashions.  The  Court's  gone 
classical  again.  Moliere  is  getting  old  fashioned. 
I'm  signing  with  the  company  at  the  Bourgogne. 


18  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

LA  FOREST 
You're  jesting,  my  little  Baron. 

BARON 
No,  it's  true. 

LA  FOREST 

He  has  been  your  friend.  It  will  hurt  him  to 
the  quick. 

BARON 
See  that  Madame,  his  wife,  hurts  him  less. 

LA  FOREST 
All  that  about  his  wife's  a  lie,  I  tell  you. 

BARON 

Wait  and  see.  Each  for  himself  in  this  world 
and  the  devil  for  those  who  aren't.  Why,  there's 
not  one  in  all  the  troupe  but  knows.  Even  Colinge, 
who  plays  the  fools  and  is  one,  is  wiser  than  Moli- 
ere  when  it  comes  to  Madame  Armande. 

LA  FOREST 
If  you  weren't  such  a  child  I'd  beat  you. 

BARON 
Beat,  as  you  will,  but  the  truth  abides. 

LA  FOREST 

You  filthy  little  thing  you! 

[She  is  about  to  strike  him.] 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  19 

BARON 

Look  out,  old  lady,  Christ  will  never  forgive  you 
if  you  hurt  a  genius. 

[He  has  run  around  the  table,  LA  FOREST 
after  him  as  ARMANDE  enters.  She  is  but  lit 
tle  past  twenty,  fresh  and  exquisite,  impetu 
ous,  uilful  and  passionate,  but  in  the  depths 
of  her  nature,  as  yet  unstable  and  unformed, 
are  hidden  possibilities  of  deep  tenderness 
and  an  acute  sensibility  to  pain.] 

BARON 

[As  LA  FOREST  is  very  close  to  him.} 
Look  out!     Look  out! 

ARMANDE 

You're  still  here,  Baron.  \Hiat's  the  matter? 
\^  hy  the  noise? 

BARON 

[Breathless.} 

\Ve're  in  hot  dispute,  this  tender  thing  and  I, 
about  the  classics.  She's  hectic  for  Homer  whilst 
I  [he's  gasping],  I'm  middling  warm  for  Vergil. 

LA  FOREST 

[Her  arm  lifted.] 
You,  you! 


20  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

BARON 
What's  your  opinion,  Madame? 

ARMANDE 

My  opinion  is  that  you'd  best  go  before  my  hus 
band's  back.  He'll  want  quiet  for  his  work. 

LA  FOREST 
[To  BARON.] 

Yes,  get  out.  Madame,  the  master  is  to  read  to 
me  this  morning. 

ARMANDE 
Maybe  not  this  morning,  La  Forest. 

LA  FOREST 

Ah,  yes,  indeed,  Madame.  That's  never 
changed.  It's  Wednesday  and  for  twenty  years 
he's  always  read  to  me  on  Wednesdays.  He 
wouldn't  give  it  up  even  if  the  King  were  coming. 

ARMANDE 
He  is. 

BARON 

[In  amazement.] 
What? 

LA  FOREST 
He  is,  Madame? 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  21 

ARMANDE 

The  priests  are  up  in  arms  against  Jean's  play, 

"Tartuffe." 

LA  FOREST 

[In  a  temper.] 

The  devil  damn  them  all.  Why,  it's  so  funny 
one  dies  laughing  but  to  hear  it. 

ARMANDE 

The  priests  find  libel  in  it  and  so  His  Majesty's 
coming  to  hear  some  scenes  this  morning  and  to 
decide  whether  or  no  he'll  grant  us  right  to  play  it. 

LA  FOREST 

Leave  that  to  Moliere,  Madame ;  there's  nothing 
in  the  world  he  cannot  do. 

BARON 

Nothing,  save  one. 

ARMANDE 
What's  that,  my  little  Baron? 

BARON 

Keep  for  himself  what  isn't  his.  Madame,  you 
understand  me. 

ARMANDE 

[Resenting  the  imputation  in  his  tone.] 
That's  very  cryptic. 


22  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

BARON 

Search  in  your  heart  and  see  if  you  can't  find  the 
key.     And  now  good-day  to  you  for  I  haven't  eaten 
since  five  this  morning. 
[And  he  exits.] 

ARMANDE 
I  do  not  like  Baron. 

LA  FOREST 

The  love  that's  lost  between  you  wouldn't  make 
straw  for  a  swallow's  nest. 

ARMANDE 
What  do  you  think  he  meant,  La  Forest? 

LA  FOREST 
Madame,  I  do  not  know. 

ARMANDE 

Yes,  you  do.     What,  what?     He  is  jealous  of 
my  success,  isn't  he? 

LA  FOREST 
Perhaps. 

ARMANDE 
Jean  must  be  rid  of  him. 

LA  FOREST 
That  will  be  easy  for  he's  going. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  23 

ARMANDE 

Going?  Is  he  the  first  rat  to  leave  the  ship? 
There  are  rumours,  La  Forest. 

LA  FOREST 
[Pointedly.] 
Yes,  of  all  sorts,  Madame.     Is  there  a  cause? 

ARMANDE 
What  do  you  mean? 

LA  FOREST 
Rumours  of  what? 

ARMANDE 

That  the  troupe  of  Moliere  is  losing  favour. 
The  church  would  crush  him  and  there's  talk  that 
Jean  grows  too  arrogant.  Why,  after  the  ballet  on 
Saturday  at  Chambord  the  King's  Mistress  sent  for 
Jean  to  hear  his  latest  play.  [LA  FOREST  suddenly 
looks  up.]  But  he  was  too  weary,  La  Forest,  would 
you  believe  it,  too  weary  to  go. 

LA  FOREST 
Was  he,  Madame? 

ARMANDE 

Yes.  Only  a  very  foolish  man  could  have  been 
as  weary  as  that.  Think  what  her  interest  may 
mean  to  us. 


24  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

LA  FOREST 

Madame,  you  were  a  little  child  and  you  do  not 
remember  but  he  was  happier  in  the  old  days  when 
we  trouped  from  town  to  town  and  our  thoughts 
were  never  bent  on  kings. 

ARMANDE 

Those  days  are  over.  Now  he  is  in  and  being 
in  must  stay. 

LA  FOREST 

Monsieur  La  Fontaine  says  that  the  Master 
wastes  his  genius  on  these  ballets  that  he's  for  ever 
writing  for  the  King. 

ARMANDE 

No  chance  should  be  forfeited  at  Court.  In  a 
few  months  our  place  may  be  less  secure  than  now. 
Lulli  is  plotting  against  Moliere.  Jean  must  bend 
before  his  Majesty  for  there's  a  saying,  La  Forest, 
that  a  King's  favour  is  a  ladder  that  trembles  when 
one  would  climb. 

LA  FOREST 

[Hot  with  sudden  honesty.] 

Would  to  God  it  might  fall,  Madame;  can't  you 
see  what  is  happening?  He  is  ill.  Urge  him  to 
give  up  this  endless  work.  The  doctors  have 
warned  him.  Go  with  him  to  Auteuil.  It  is  quiet 
there  out  in  the  open.  I've  not  been  with  him  all 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  25 

these  years  for  nothing.     I  know  that  unless  you 
go— 

ARMANDE 

In  a  month,  La  Forest,  there  will  be  time.  You 
do  not  understand  me,  even  you  who  have  been  my 
nurse.  I  am  not  doing  this  for  myself  but  for 
Jean. 

LA  FOREST 

Madame,  you  are  a  member  of  the  troupe  of 
Moliere. 

ARMANDE 
[Bitterly.] 

The  troupe  of  Moliere.  Yes,  from  the  begin 
ning.  I  was  born  in  the  lap  of  the  troupe  of  Moli 
ere.  All  I  can  remember  is  this  life  of  the  theatre. 
Don't  you  imagine  that  there  are  days  when  I  would 
rush  for  ever  from  the  grey  sameness  of  it  all? 
Have  you  never  thought  that  I, — I,  want  to  be  some 
thing  besides  the  wife  of  a  genius,  the  puppet  of  his 
endless  imaginings?  The  troupe  of  Moliere  [and 
her  voice  is  vibrant],  God,  would  that  I  were  done 
with  it. 

LA  FOREST 

Madame,  Madame! 

ARMANDE 

No  sooner  are  we  back  from  the  Palace  than  I'm 
hungry  for  the  luxury  of  it  all,  for  mornings  that 


26  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

do  not  mean  rehearsals  and  for  days  that  do  not 
mean  the  endless  study  of  his  endless  parts. 

LA  FOREST 

Madame,  your  husband  is  the  greatest  man  in 
France. 

ARMANDE 

Is  it  because  of  that  that  you  think  I'm  the  happi 
est  wife  in  Europe? 

LA  FOREST 

I  have  watched  you  ever  since  your  childhood. 
I  have  seen  little  by  little  this  fame  come  to  you,  to 
him.  Madame,  I  think  it  has  come  but  to  crowd 
out  peace. 

ARMANDE 

Ah,  I  want  to  make  an  end  of  it.  It's  all  so  full 
that  it  is  empty.  It  is  he  that  will  not  give  it  up,  he. 
You  do  not  know  your  master  as  I  know  him.  I 
am  very  young,  La  Forest,  but  there  come  moments 
when  I  am  as  old  as  an  aged  woman  who  has  never 
known  joy,  whose  heart  is  crying  out  for  the  happi 
ness  that  she  has  never  known. 

LA  FOREST 

Back  in  the  peace  of  Auteuil  you  will  both  find 
rest. 

ARMANDE 
No,  I  am  too  young  for  silence.     It  will  be  terri- 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  27 

ble  being  alone  with  him.  I'm  weary  of  being  the 
shadow  of  another  even  though  that  other  be  Moli- 
ere. 

LA  FOREST 

Madame,  no  good  can  come  of  this.     We  must 
make  the  best  of  what  fate  has  made  us. 

ARMANDE 

[And  her  voice  stings.] 
Because  you  believe  that,  you  are  still  a  servant. 

LA  FOREST 
[Quietly.] 

It  is  because  I  believe  that  that  God  has  given 
me  my  happiness. 

ARMANDE 

[She  is  sobbing.] 

Happiness;  yes,  that  is  the  right  of  each  of  us 
and  I  shall  find  my  own. 

LA  FOREST 
[Pleading.] 

Madame,  madame,  not  at  the  price  of  wounding 
him. 

ARMANDE 

There  are  moments  when  no  price  is  too  high  to 
pay. 


28  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

LA  FOREST 

Madame,  be  careful;  I  hear  him  coming. 

[And  MOLIERE  stands  in  the  room.  He  is 
one  of  those  extraordinary  men  that  one  feels 
as  a  "presence."  He  must  be  played  at  times 
with  quiet  power  and  at  times  with  all  the 
glamour  and  colour  of  romance.  One  must 
feel  behind  his  every  gesture  the  flash  of  his 
commanding  mind.  He  must  personify  by 
multitudinous  nuances  the  comedy,  if  not  the 
tragedy,  of  such  a  mind's  slavery  to  an  over 
sensitive  and  ever-present  introspection.  Un 
der  the  superficial,  fascinating  charm  of  his 
actor's  manner  must  be  felt  the  dominant 
power  of  his  vitally  experienced  and  mellowed 
personality.  His  soul  is  of  the  sort  that  can 
think  in  intense  clarity  of  human  generalities 
and  at  the  same  moment  feel  to  a  degree  of 
tragic  poignancy,  a  sorrow  or  a  happiness 
when  he  himself  is  touched.  His  intense  en 
ergy,  always  spent  at  high  pitch,  hangs  poised 
half  way  between  an  almost  blind  adoration 
of  his  wife  and  an  unflagging  enthusiasm  for 
his  work  as  actor  and  as  dramatist.} 

MOLIERE 
Armande,  you're  early  up. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  29 

ARMANDE 

I've  come  to  rehearse  with  Le  Grange.  The  oth 
ers  are  there  too,  on  the  stage,  waiting  to  play  the 
scenes  for  the  King. 

MOLIERE 

And  you,  La  Forest,  are  you  here  to  sing  a  ballad 
for  His  Majesty? 

LA  FOREST 

[In  an  offended  tone.] 
Have  you  forgotten  that  it's  Wednesday? 

MOLIERE 

Why,  so  it  is.  The  play  is  ready.  [And  he 
points  to  the  table.]  But  first  take  away  these  ham 
pers  and  these  bottles.  [LA  FOREST  begins  collect 
ing  them.]  I  do  not  like  a  room  after  a  feast. 
It's  like  a  theatre  when  the  play  is  over.  Some 
thing  that  has  been  is  dead.  Quick,  La  Forest;  I 
will  call  you  when  I  am  ready. 

LA  FOREST 

[Scolding.] 
See  that  you're  not  too  long  about  it. 

MOLIERE 

[Smiling.] 
Oh,  look  here,  don't  scold. 


30  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

LA  FOREST 
You're  sitting  up  too  late. 

MOLIERE 
I  promise  to  reform. 

LA  FOREST 
When? 

MOLIERE 

Tomorrow. 

LA  FOREST 
Tomorrow  is  the  paradise  of  fools. 

MOLIERE 

Right,  right,  my  friend!  It's  the  moment's  faith 
that  matters.  For  the  past  has  sung  itself  to  sleep 
and  the  future  is  life's  gamble.  Now,  look  here, 
La  Forest,  you  can't  carry  all  those  at  once. 

[For   the   old   woman   is    bent   under  the 
weight  of  the  hampers.] 

LA  FOREST 

Didn't  you  say  to  hurry?  No,  I  can  manage 
these  alone. 

[And  she  totters  out.] 

MOLIERE 

God  bless  her,  I  think  she  could  sweep  out  hell 
in  seven,  days. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  31 

ARMANDE 

Sometimes  her  tongue  is  too  free. 

MOLIERE 

Let  her  go  babbling  to  the  end,  Armande, — her 
heart  is  right.     And  now,  good  morning,  Armande. 
[And  he  holds  out  his  arms  to  her.] 

ARMANDE 

So,  I've  forgotten. 

[And  then  she  is  over  next  to  him  and  kisses 
him  as  a  child  might  kiss  its  father.] 

MOLIERE 
You  are  tired.     We  supped  too  late  last  night. 

ARMANDE 

No.     La  Fontaine  was  never  more  amusing  and 
Chapelle  too.     He  finished  all  the  bottles. 
[She  turns  to  go.] 

MOLIERE 

Armande. 

ARMANDE 
What  is  it,  Jean? 

MOLIERE 
Why  are  you  in  such  a  haste  to  go? 


32  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

ARMANDE 
I  told  you  Le  Grange  is  waiting. 

MOLIERE 

[And  his  voice  is  stern.] 
And  so  am  I. 

ARMANDE 
For  what?     For  what? 

MOLIERE 
There's  a  quality  in  me  that's  rare  in  dramatists. 

ARMANDE 

[With  just  a  tinge  of  irony.] 
Well,  I'll  sit  down  if  it's  to  be  a  dissertation. 

MOLIERE 

No,  for  brevity  will  spare  you  that.  Perhaps 
you've  noticed  that  in  my  plays  I  hasten  to  essen 
tials. 

ARMANDE 

[Smiling.] 
Yes,  Jean,  I've  played  in  many. 

MOLIERE 

[Stepping  closer  to  her.] 

And  so  in  life  too.  Armande,  what  has  come 
between  us? 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  33 

ARMANDE 
I  do  not  understand. 

MOLIERE 

Nor  I.  For  days,  for  months  I've  been  watching 
you.  Fancies,  I  thought,  perhaps  of  my  too  eager 
love.  And  then  on  Saturday  at  Chambord  hints 
and  almost  certitudes,  and  now  on  all  sides  whis 
pers  of  what  my  heart  is  trembling  to  believe. 

ARMANDE 

What,  Jean,  what? 

[And  she  is  looking  straight  at  him.] 

MOLIERE 

Nothing,  nothing;  you're  right.  What  should 
there  be? 

ARMANDE 

Now  may  I  go?  The  lines  are  difficult.  Le 
Grange  is  waiting. 

MOLIERE 
Yes. 

[She  turns  from  him.  then  as  she  reaches 
the  door  that  leads  to  the  stage.] 

MOLIERE 
Armande! 

ARMANDE 
[Turning.] 
Yes? 


34  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

MOLIERE 

Is  there  something  you  would  spare  me  by  your 
silence? 

ARMANDE 

No. 

MOLIERE 
Then  I've  misjudged  you. 

ARMANDE 

You  best  had  save  these  subtle  fancies  for  your 
comedies. 

MOLIERE 

Last  night  your  songs  were  over-shrill,  your 
laughter  over-gay.  It  has  been  like  this  since 
Chambord.  When  I  look  at  you,  Armande,  you 
turn  from  me.  [And  then  almost  fiercely.]  If 
there  is  some  one  who  has  intrigued  your  heart,  for 
the  love  of  God,  tell  me,  Armande,  tell  me. 

ARMANDE 
No  one.  No  one. 

MOLIERE 
Armande. 

ARMANDE 
You  know  I  love  you,  Jean. 

MOLIERE 

I  do,  and  that  is  why  I  speak  freely  to  you  all, 
that  else  a  doubt  would  make  me  hesitate  to  say. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  35 

ARMANDE 

There  is  nothing,  nothing. 

MOLIERE 

Armande,  do  not  think  I  do  not  understand. 
Yes,  I  am  older  than  you,  but  still  I  know  the  ter 
rible  swiftness  of  the  will  of  youth  when  it  desires. 
Do  you  know  that  they  are  whispering,  they  are 
hinting  [and  his  voice  is  almost  inaudible],  hinting 
—that,  De  Lauzun — 

ARMANDE 

[Starting  back.] 
What! 

MOLIERE 

When  Lulli  speaks  of  him  his  lips  sneer. 

ARMANDE 
Lulli  is  your  enemy  and  you  still  believe  him. 

MOLIERE 

That  is  not  all.  When  I  passed  with  you  under 
the  trees  at  Chambord  I  heard  the  courtiers  laugh 
ing.  You  are  the  wife  of  an  actor,  Armande;  you 
are  an  actress,  and  to  their  filthy  minds  that  means 
that  you  are  easily  taken  and  that  I,  I,  Moliere, 
should  hide  my  head  in  silence  and  bend  before 
the  honour  of  their  choice.  Is  no  woman  safe  at 
Court? 


36  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

ARMANDE 

None,  except  de  Montespan. 

MOLIERE 

You're  right.     Where's  honour  in  a  court  where 
she  is  honoured? 

ARMANDE 
Be  careful  lest  some  one  hear  you. 

MOLIERE 

Oh,  don't  be  frightened;  the  King's  not  coming 
yet. 

ARMANDE 
She  has  been  kind,  Jean,  to  me,  to  you. 

MOLIERE 
To  what  purpose?     We  are  but  actors. 

ARMANDE 

[Holding  out  a  little  fan.] 

As  a  sign  of  her  favour  she  sent  this  fan  to  me. 
She  would  help  us. 

MOLIERE 

Help?     Do  we  then  need  help?     Am  I  not  Moli- 
ere? 

ARMANDE 
La  Valliere  has  fallen,  Jean.     De  Montespan  is 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  37 

nearest  to  the  King.  When  she  speaks  it  is  France 
that  listens.  Remember  the  rival  company  at  the 
Bourgogne.  Some  day  we  may  need  her. 

MOLIERE 

Need  her.  You  too,  Armande.  Is  the  taint  so 
easily  taken  then?  Let  my  work  speak  for  me  and 
not  the  favour  of  any  woman  even  though  she  be 
the  Mistress  of  the  King.  Armande,  let  me  see 
that  fan. 

ARMANDE 

[Drawing  back  for  there  is  something  in  his 
tone  that  frightens  her. ] 

See  how  beautiful  it  is.  She  has  written  a  motto 
on  the  panel.  [And  then  she  reads.]  "She  who 
flees  her  lover  but  flies  to  love."  How  beautiful  it 
is! 

MOLIERE 

[Taking  the  fan  and  impetuously  breaking 
it  in  his  hand.] 

ARMANDE 

[Her  eyes  filling  with  tears.] 
What  have  you  done?     What  have  you  done? 

MOLIERE 

Forgive  me,  forgive  me.  [Then  tenderly,  his 
voice  beseeching  her.]  Armande,  if  I  am  cruel  it 
is  my  love  that  makes  me  cruel.  If  ever  you  are 


38  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

false  to  me,  lie  to  me,  lie  to  me,  so  that  I  may  tell 
the  world  it  lies.  See  now  it's  over,  never  again 
will  I  doubt  you.  Never.  You  still  love  me,  Ar- 
mande? 

ARMANDE 

As  I  have  always  loved  you,  Jean.  See,  your 
work  awaits  you.  [She  is  over,  next  to  the  table.] 
Here  at  least  there  lurks  no  doubt,  no  bitterness. 
Don't,  Jean,  don't.  It  hurts  me  when  you  ask  me 
to  forgive  you.  Can't  you  understand?  Don't. 
Don't.  [And  then  at  the  door.]  La  Forest,  your 
master  is  calling  you. 

[And  she  exits  to  the  stage  and  when  LA 
FOREST  enters  MOLIERE  is  seated  at  his  table.] 

MOLIERE 

So,  to  work.  [He  takes  up  a  few  sheets  of  the 
manuscript.]  Where  were  we  last  Wednesday? 

LA  FOREST 

The  scene  where  your  hero  goes  blind  with  jeal 
ousy.  What  a  fool  he  is  for  all  his  chatter. 

MOLIERE 
He's  very  like  me,  isn't  he,  La  Forest? 

LA  FOREST 

[Bluntly.] 
Yes,  Master. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  39 

MOLIERE 

[Smiling.] 

You're  frank,  my  ancient  critic. 

LA  FOREST 

You're  both  too  honest,  you  and  your  hero,  this 
Alceste.  Truth  goes  shivering  in  a  world  where 
lies  are  raiment.  Master,  don't  harken  all  you 
hear. 

MOLIERE 

You're  right.     Well,  sit  down. 

LA  FOREST 
[After  a  pause.] 
Master,  I  know  what's  troubling  you. 

MOLIERE 

My  comedy?  Why,  no,  it's  going  well.  Yes, 
here  we  are.  [And  he  begins  reading.]  "Now 
Alceste  rushes  in  with  the  letter  in  his  hand." 

LA  FOREST 

[ Interrupting  h im .  ] 

I  think  he  would  be  more  of  a  gentleman  if  he 
walked  in  slowly. 

MOLIERE 

Perhaps  you're  right.  Do  you  think  I  best  had 
change  it? 


40  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

LA  FOREST 
[Impatiently."] 

Why  do  you  read  to  me  if  you  don't  intend  to 
do  as  I  say?  You  are  a  dramatist  and  you  may 
know  how  to  write  plays  but  I  am  a  cook  and  I 
know  the  public  taste.  I  tell  you  to  have  him  walk 
in. 

MOLIERE 
[Smiling.'] 

But  why? 

LA  FOREST 

What  a  fool  you  are  with  your  questions.  If  he 
rushes  in  don't  you  know  he  may  trip  on  his  sword 
and  then  they  will  laugh  where  you  don't  want  them 
to. 

MOLIERE 

Yes,  there's  something  to  that,  but  he  doesn't 
have  to  have  a  sword. 

LA  FOREST 
Then  there's  no  fighting? 

MOLIERE 

No.     We  have  changed  all  that. 

LA  FOREST 

I  always  tell  you  it  will  be  difficult  to  make  your 
plays  interesting  if  there  isn't  any  fighting. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  41 

MOLIERE 

All  of  the  fighting  goes  on  in  his  doubts. 

LA  FOREST 

So? 

MOLIERE 

Don't  you  know  that  the  greatest  battles  are 
fought  in  the  heart  of  man? 

LA  FOREST 

That  sounds  well  enough  to  say  but  will  it  be 
worth  listening  to  in  the  theatre? 

MOLIERE 
That  isn't  in  the  play. 

LA  FOREST 

Well,  never  mind  if  it  is  or  isn't.  Don't  you 
know  that  all  the  great  plays  are  about  war  and 
death? 

MOLIERE 
[Laughing.] 
They  used  to  be  but  now  Moliere  is  in  the  field. 

LA  FOREST 

You  think  very  well  of  yourself,  don't  you,  Mon 
sieur? 

MOLIERE 

And  you,  La  Forest,  what  do  you  think  of  me? 


42  MOLIERE  [Aer  I 

LA  FOREST 

I'll  tell  you  when  the  play  is  written. 

[At  this  moment  COLINGE  enters.  He  is  an 
old  man  who  has  been  from  the  beginning  a 
member  of  MOLIERE'S  troupe, — a  poor  old 
played-out  actor  pathetically  conscious  that 
the  end  of  his  career  is  upon  him.  His  adora 
tion  for  MOLIERE  is  that  of  a  faithful  old  dog 
for  its  master.] 

COLINGE 
Master,  may  I  speak  with  you? 

LA  FOREST 

Get  out,  Colinge.     Can't  you  see  that  he's  read 
ing  to  me? 

COLINGE 
Oh,  I'd  forgotten  it  was  Wednesday. 

LA  FOREST 

This  time  we'll  both  forgive  you. 
[He  turns  to  go.] 

MOLIERE 

Colinge,  what  is  it? 

COLINGE 
Master,  can  you  spare  a  moment  only? 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  43 

MOLIERE 

Of  course,  come  in. 

LA  FOREST 
[Resenting  this.] 
What! 

MOLIERE 

Now  look  here,  La  Forest,  just  because  you  are 
my  critic  you  needn't  think  you  own  me  bones  and 
body. 

LA  FOREST 
[Angry.] 

So!  You're  going  to  let  him  interrupt  your  play 
so  that  you  two  cronies  can  sit  and  gab.  Women 
have  the  name  for  chatter,  but  we  are  hard  put  to  it 
to  beat  you  men  at  gossip. 

MOLIERE 
Colinge,  sit  down. 

LA  FOREST 
Well,  sit  down;  can't  you  hear,  Colinge? 

MOLIERE 
La  Forest,  I'll  call  you  when  I'm  ready. 

LA  FOREST 

See  that  you  are  not  too  long  about  it  or  I'll  not 
listen  to  your  stupid  old  comedy  at  all. 
[She  exits.] 


44  MOLIERE  [Acr  I 

MOLIERE 

Well,  Colinge,  what  is  it? 

COLINGE 

Master — I — I — 

MOLIERE 
Yes? 

COLINGE 

[Hesitantly.] 

Monday  at  rehearsal  when  I  forgot  my  lines  you 
didn't  seem  to  notice  it  and  yesterday  when  I 
couldn't  get  the  words  you  passed  it  over  tho  the 
company  sat  snickering  in  the  corner. 

MOLIERE 

I've  written  so  many  lines  that  I  think  the  world 
can  spare  a  few. 

[And  he  scratches  out  several  on  the  page 
before  him.] 

COLINGE 

Master,  that  was  at  rehearsal;  what — what — 
[and  he  is  almost  afraid  to  say  it] — what  if  I 
should  forget  some  day  during  a  performance? 

MOLIERE 

They'll  bless  you  if  you  slice  it.  Most  plays 
are  twice  as  good  when  half  as  long. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  45 

COLINGE 

That  is  true  of  Racine  maybe,  but  not  Moliere. 
Master,  what  if  all  of  the  speeches  should  some  day 
go  from  me?  Last  night  I  woke  suddenly  from  a 
dream;  the  play  had  broken  and  the  people  jeered 
because  Colinge  could  not  go  on. 

MOLIERE 

[Kindly,  sweetly.] 

Colinge,  you  were  only  dreaming.  If  that 
should  happen  they  would  never  know.  Just  turn 
about  and  say:  "  'Twas  Wednesday  last"  or  "Sir, 
your  ribbons  are  awry" — or  this  or  that. — just  say 
it  deeply  with  your  voice  in  some  new  register  and 
they  will  think  the  play's  beginning  over. 

COLINGE 

[And  a  sob  begins  in  his  voice.] 
It's  the  first  time  it's  happened  in  all  the  years 
I've  played  with  you. 

MOLIERE 

[His  arm  about  hi?n.] 

It's  about  time  you  showed  some  temperament. 
The  actor  who  is  always  perfect  is  no  perfect  actor. 

COLINGE 

[Half  tears,  half  laughter.] 
Master,  you  jest  to  spare  me. 


46  MOLIERE  [Acr  I 

MOLIERE 

I  did  not  think  my  jests  spared  any  one. 
COLINGE 

Don't  hesitate  to  speak.  I'd  rather  that  you'd 
say  it,  sir,  and  it  were  over. 

MOLIERE 
What,  Golinge? 

COLINGE 

What  I  dread  to  hear  but  when  the  day  comes  I 
suppose  each  of  us  must  be  ready.  Say  it,  mas 
ter  [his  voice  is  faltering] ;  say  that  I  am  too  old, 
say  that  the  troupe  of  Moliere  has  no  longer  any 
use  for  me. 

MOLIERE 

Colinge! 

COLINGE 

Your  comedies  are  too  neatly  written  for  my 
stumbling  head.  It's  time  for  me  to  take  my  cur 
tain. 

MOLIERE 

My  friend,  for  twenty  seasons  you  have  played 
with  me  and  now  because  you  miss  a  rhyme  or  two 
you  think  your  use  is  over.  Colinge,  where  would 
I  find  another  whose  art's  so  mellow  and  so  tested 
by  the  years?  Where  would  I  find  another  whose 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  47 

listening  is  so  eloquent  as  yours,  whose  humour  is 
so  rich  yet  never  vulgar  in  its  over  ripeness?  Co- 
linge,  what  would  the  troupe  of  Moliere  do  with 
out  you? 

COLINGE 

Master— 

MOLIERE 

[For  the  old  mans  voice  is  next  to  tears.] 
Or  have  you  perhaps  had  an  offer  from  the  com 
pany  at  the  Bourgogne?  Is  it  thus  you  want  to 
break  the  news  to  me?  Well,  God  speed  to  you, 
my  friend,  and  never  forget  the  tricks  that  Moliere 
taught  you. 

COLINGE 
Master,  I  never  want  to  leave  you. 

MOLIERE 

Well,  don't  whilst  you  are  happy  with  me. 
You'll  play  a  doctor  in  a  comedy  I  plan  to  write, 
a  comedy  about  a  man  who  thinks  that  he's  an  in 
valid.  We're  all  fools  to  our  thoughts,  Colinge. 
My  hero  is  to  think  he's  dying  of  all  the  ailments 
in  the  index,  my  friend  Colinge  believes  his  playing 
days  are  done  and  I,  Moliere,  think  that  perhaps 
my  wife — ah,  well,  at  times  this  Moliere  thinks  too 
much.  But  now  to  work. 

[He  is  back  at  the  table.] 


48  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

COLINGE 

Wait  and  see,  master;  I  will  not  slip  tomorrow. 

MOLIERE 
Of  course  you  won't. 

COLINGE 

Even  if  my  new  part  is  half  your  comedy  I'll 
know  each  word  of  it. 

MOLIERE 
[Laughing.] 

Well,  hardly  half.     Leave  me  a  bit.     I'm  play 
ing  in  it  too.     Tell  La  Forest  that  I'm  ready. 
[And  COLINGE  exits.] 

LA  FOREST 
[Entering.] 
You've  kept  me  waiting  long  enough. 

MOLIERE 

[Half  to  himself .] 
Poor  Colinge. 

LA  FOREST 
What's  the  matter  with  him? 

MOLIERE 
Nightfall,  La  Forest,  nightfall. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  49 

LA  FOREST 
Nightfall.     Rubbish!     Well,  let's  to  work. 

MOLIERE 

Yes,  I'm  ready;  come  sit  down. 

[He  takes  up  his  manuscript.] 

LA  FOREST 
What  do  you  call  your  play? 

MOLIERE 
"The  Misanthrope." 

LA  FOREST 
What's  that? 

MOLIERE 
A  man  who  thinks  he  alone  is  right. 

LA  FOREST 
He's  lonely,  isn't  he? 

MOLIERE 
Yes,  and  bitter. 

LA  FOREST 
How  has  he  learnt  this  bitterness? 

MOLIERE 

Through  love  and  through  the  hurt  of  love. 


50  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

LA  FOREST 

It  is  good  to  be  old  and  done  with  love.     One 
can  only  be  happy  when  that  happiness  is  over. 

MOLIERE 
Love  is  the  last  dream  we  awake  from. 

[And  as  he  speaks  he  takes  from  the  table 
the  broken  bits  of  ARMANDE'S  fan.] 

LA  FOREST 

[Watching  him.] 
Go  on  with  your  play. 

MOLIERE 

It  will  be  finished  in  a  few  weeks  now  that  the 
fetes  are  over. 

LA  FOREST 

Why  don't  you  give  up  this  acting  for  ever? 
You're  rich,  famous. 

MOLIERE 
[Smiling.'] 

Were  you  a  comedian,  La  Forest — 

LA  FOREST 
[Interrupting  him.] 

Monsieur,  every  morning  I  am  on  my  knees 
thanking  the  good  God  that  he  has  made  me  a 
human  being  and  not  an  actor. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  51 

MOLIERE 

Were  you  a  comedian  you  would  know  that  an 
actor  must  go  on.  Were  you  an  actor  you  would 
realize  that  nothing  is  so  transitory  as  the  fame  of 
a  player.  Today  the  beautiful  applause  of  Paris 
is  in  our  ears,  the  King  has  approved  our  comedy, 
and  then  for  months  we  have  to  pay  the  guards  to 
keep  the  crowds  away  from  the  theatre.  And  then 
tomorrow — and  that  tomorrow  sometimes  comes  too 
swiftly — tomorrow  we  are,  perhaps,  forgotten  and 
at  some  country  fair,  unlicensed,  and  in  vain  we 
spill  our  souls  to  the  yawns  of  the  yokels.  That  is 
why  an  actor  believes  so  terribly,  so  ridiculously  in 
the  moment;  any  moment,  La  Forest,  may  be  his 
last.  Why,  every  day  when  I  see  you  light  the 
candles  before  the  play,  then  I  know  that  I  shall 
never  give  it  up.  Sometimes  I  even  think  that  I 
shall  die  acting. 

[There  is  a  pause.     Then  the  sound  of  a 
coach  stopping  in  the  street.] 

LA  FOREST 

The  devil  take  the  King  if  he's  come  to  interrupt 
us. 

ARMANDE 

[Entering  from  the  stage.] 

Some  of  the  coaches  are  coming,  Jean.  His 
Majesty  will  follow  in  a  moment  now. 


52  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

MOLIERE 

Are  all  the  actors  ready,  La  Forest?     Tell  me 
when  the  King  is  here. 

[He  exits  by  the  door  leading  to  the  stage.] 

LA  FOREST 
[At  the  window.] 

The  outriders  are  in  yellow  with  ribbons  of  blue. 
Is  it  the  King's  coach,  Madame? 

ARMANDE 

Ribbons  of  blue.      [And  her  voice  is  trembling.] 
La  Forest,  open  the  little  door  beyond  the  passage. 
[LA  FOREST  exits.     A   pause.     And  then 
there  is  the  sound  of  voices  and  the  next  sec 
ond  DE  LAUZUN  15  in  the  room.     He  is  young, 
debonair,   extraordinarily  handsome  and   in 
the  grace  and  ease  of  his  manner,  a  perfect 
courtier.] 

ARMANDE 

How  often  must  I  beseech  you  not  to  come  to  the 
theatre? 

DE  LAUZUN 

Bidding  me  stay  away  but  draws  me  nearer.  I 
have  chosen  this  chance  of  the  King's  coming,  just 
to  see  you,  speak  to  you. 

ARMANDE 
God !     You  are  torturing  me. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  53 

DE  LAUZUN 

And  you?     What  do  you  do  to  me? 

[He  steps  nearer  to  her,  holding  out  his 
arms.} 

ARMANDE 

Don't,  don't.  Do  not  come  here.  I  am  afraid. 
Go!  Go! 

DE  LAUZUN 
Shall  I,  Armande?     As  you  bid  me — 

[He  has  taken  a  step  toward  the  door.] 

ARMANDE 

No, — stay  a  moment.  What  shall  I  do?  What 
shall  I  do? 

DE  LAUZUN 

I  have  told  you.  At  Court  all  will  be  different. 
My  mother's  influence — she  is  lady-in-waiting  to 
the  Queen.  A  word  from  me — you  understand.  I 
love  you  but  whilst  you  are  here  I  can  do  nothing. 

ARMANDE 
[Bitterly.] 
Whilst  I  am  here. 

DE  LAUZUN 

When?     Where  shall  we  meet? 

ARMANDE 
I  am  for  ever  watched. 


54  MOLIERE  [Aer  I 

DE  LAUZUN 
Where? 

ARMANDE 

I  do  not  know.  Sometimes  I'm  afraid.  When 
he  looks  at  me  I  know  that  I  would  rather  die  than 
hurt  him  and  then  come  the  long  hours  when  my 
heart  cries  out  for  you. 

DE  LAUZUN 

Armande ! 

[He  has  taken  her  into  his  arms.] 

ARMANDE 
God!     God! 

DE  LAUZUN 

Near  the  Palace  at  Fontainebleau  is  my  father's 
hunting  lodge.  There's  no  living  being  about  but 
the  old  man  who  keeps  the  dogs.  It's  so  quiet  there 
in  the  twilight,  Armande,  so  very  quiet. 

ARMANDE 

I  tell  you  I  am  for  ever  watched.  I  cannot  get 
away  from  Paris. 

DE  LAUZUN 

Then  in  the  city  here  I'll  meet  you  at  the  milli 
ner's. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  55 

ARMANDE 

He  goes  with  me.  There  is  no  detail  of  the  cos 
tumes  too  small  for  his  attention. 

DE  LAUZUN 

At  the  shops  on  the  Bridge. 

ARMANDE 

Perhaps.  I  do  not  know.  When  you  are  away 
I  would  be  with  you.  Then  my  heart  bids  me  slam 
the  door  of  his  theatre  for  ever  and  be  gone.  But 
then  I  look  up — and  his  eyes  are  upon  me.  Oh, 
God,  what  has  Fate  done  to  me? 

[She  sinks  into  a  chair  at  the  table.] 

DE  LAUZUN 

You  do  not  love  me,  Armande? 

ARMANDE 

Yes,  I  want  to  go  with  you,  but  something- 
something— 

DE  LAUZUN 

We  men  are  braver. 

ARMANDE 

It  isn't  fear  but  something  I  do  not  understand. 

DE  LAUZUN 

This  afternoon,  after  the  play,  my  coach  will  be 
waiting  beyond  the  bridge. 


56  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

ARMANDE 
No,  I  cannot. 

DE  LAUZUN 
You  do  not  love  me. 

ARMANDE 

Beyond  the  bridge.  Some  day  perhaps,  but — 
no — no.  [The  sound  of  more  coaches  stopping  in 
the  street.  She  is  at  the  window.]  It's  the  King. 

LA  FOREST 

[Rushing  in.] 
Madame,  the  King,  the  King! 

ARMANDE 
Yes.     Go  tell  your  Master. 

LA  FOREST 

[At  the  door,  calling  into  the  stage.] 
Master.     The  King,  the  King! 

ARMANDE 

[Low  to  DE  LAUZUN.] 
Pity  me,  pity  me. 

[At  this  moment  MOLIERE  stands  on  the 
threshold,  his  eyes  glancing  from  DE  LAUZUN 
to  ARMANDE.  He  is  about  to  speak,  the  blood 
mounting  in  his  face.  LA  FOREST  stands 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  57 

watching  him.     His  hand,  lifted  to  his  heart, 
is  trembling.] 

MOLIERE 

[Very  low.] 
Armande. 

[There  is  a  pause.  Then  suddenly  the 
sound  of  voices  in  the  passage  way.] 

LA  FOREST 
Master,  the  King. 

MOLIERE 

[Suddenly  straightening  up.] 

Yes,  I  am  ready. 

[One  or  two  courtiers  enter.  And  then  the 
voice  of  the  chamberlain  is  heard  calling.] 

The  King!     The  King! 

[MOLIERE,  ARMANDE,  the  COURTIERS  and 
LA  FOREST  all  bow  facing  the  door  and  Louis 
OF  FRANCE  enters  and  on  his  arm  is  leaning 
FRANCOISE  DE  MONTESPAN.  The  KING  is 
pompous,  self-indulgent  and  inordinately  con 
ceited.  He  has  learnt  through  dire  necessity 
to  cover  his  stupidity  under  royal  irritability. 
Even  in  spite  of  this  he  has  a  certain  personal 
charm,  but  though  he  has  had  two  mistresses 
to  his  credit  and  several  others  not  historically 
recorded,  it  is  more  to  the  fact  that  he  is  King 


58  MOLIERE  [Aer  I 

than  an  irresistible  gentleman  that  his  favour 
with  the  ladies  has  been  so  regally  extensive. 

MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN,  to  quote  BARON 
and  the  superlative  SAINT-SIMON,  is  as  beau 
tiful  as  the  day.  She  is  imperious  and  at  the 
same  time  fascinating,  quick,  humorous  and 
witty.  She  is  never  for  a  moment  off  her 
guard,  always  alert  with  the  sensitive  alertness 
of  an  astute  woman  whose  life  has  been  a  per 
petual  campaign  for  power  and  who  has 
learned  that  most  subtle  of  the  lessons  of  femi 
ninity:  the  ability  to  anticipate  another's  men 
tal  mood.] 

Following  the  KING  are  one  or  two  more 
Courtiers,  DE  MONTESPAN'S  ladies  and  LA 
FONTAINE,  the  writer  of  the  Fables.  He  is  a 
quaint,  eccentric  man,  a  mixture  of  the  direct 
and  the  aloof,  a  man  whose  speech  is  coloured 
by  a  peculiar  attractive  quality  of  absent- 
mindedness.'] 

MOLIERE 

[Approaching  and  kneeling  to  the  KING.] 
Sire,  you're  welcome.     The  actors  are  waiting  to 
play  the  scenes  that  the  Reverend  Fathers  of  God 
find  libelous. 

Louis 

So,  how  long  do  the  scenes  last? 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  59 

MOLIERE 

Only  the  length  of  your  amusement,  Sire. 

Louis 

Some  day  I  shall  issue  a  royal  edict  so  limiting 
all  plays. 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Dryly.] 

That  would  close  nearly  every  theatre  in  Paris, 
Your  Majesty. 

Louis 

[Patly.] 

No,  sir,  all  in  France,  but  at  the  moment  I  except 
Moliere.     He  is  an  excellent  fellow. 

MOLIERE 

Your  Majesty,  that  is  because  I  have  not  yet 
learned  how  easily  you  are  bored. 

Louis 

Exactly.     Why  do  the  Abbes  object  to  your  com 
edy? 

MOLIERE 
Perhaps  because  it  tells  the  truth. 

Louis 

What's  its  theme,  Sir? 


60  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

MOLIERE 

[His  eye  on  ARMANDE  who  stands  at  one 
side  close  to  DE  LAUZUN.] 

It's  called  "Tartuffe,"  Your  Majesty,  and  it's 
about  a  hypocrite. 

Louis 

The  theme's  a  pregnant  one.     You  play  in  it, 
Moliere? 

MOLIERE 
Today,  Sire,  only  a  small  part. 

Louis 

It   takes   a   big   man    to   play   the   little   parts. 
Where's  your  make-up? 

MOLIERE 
In  my  art. 

Louis 

Well  answered.     Can  you  teach  me  to  speak  so 
patly? 

MOLIERE 
In  one  lesson,  Sire,  provided  only — 

Louis 

What? 

MOLIERE 
That  you  were  Moliere. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  61 

Louis 

[Enjoying  the  answer  tho  the  point's  against 
him.] 
La  Fontaine,  make  a  note  of  that. 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Smiling  slyly.] 
I've  already  done  so,  your  Majesty. 

Louis 

And  tell  these  things  to  the  Queen;  they  may 
amuse  her.  She  must  be  amused,  otherwise  having 
nothing  to  do  she  is  apt  to  come  to  my  apartments 
on  the  pretext  of  inquiring  how  I  feel.  I'm  in  ex 
cellent  health.  Have  a  bulletin  sent  out  each  morn 
ing,  until  Lent,  saying  I'm  in  excellent  health. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
God  so  preserve  you,  Sire. 

Louis 

Frangoise,  thanks  for  your  prayers.  [Then  to 
ARMANDE.]  Good  morning,  Madame.  At  Cham- 
bord  you  were  a  delight  to  the  eye  and  a  ravishment 
to  the  ear.  You  must  come  some  time  and  play 
for  the  Queen,  only  play  something  that's  religious. 
Moliere,  you  will  write  something  sacred  for  Her 
Majesty. 


62  MOLIERE  [Aer  I 

MOLIERE 

[Bowing.] 

In  all  things  it  will  be  my  privilege  to  please  you, 
Sire. 

Louis 

Good.  Full  of  Saints,  Moliere.  A  play  quite 
stuffed  with  saints,  lest  Her  Majesty  misunderstand 
it. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN      j 

Too  much  holiness  may  crowd  out  art. 

MOLIERE 
And  too  much  art,  the  holy. 

Louis 

That's  good,  Moliere.  La  Fontaine,  make  a  note 
of  that. 

LA  FONTAINE 

Yes,  Your  Majesty. 

Louis 

[Magnificently.] 

Moliere,  you  have  a  way  of  saying  exactly  what 
I'm  thinking.  Some  day  I  must  act  in  one  of  your 
plays.  I'm  a  very  excellent  actor. 

MOLIERE 

Not  so  good  as  I,  Sire. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  63 

Louis 

Why  not? 

MOLIERE 

Sire,  I  can  play  the  King  of  France,  but  can  you 
play  Moliere? 

Louis 

Write  a  scene  for  this  lady  and  myself.  [He 
points  to  DE  MONTESPAN.]  Something  pastoral 
and  quieting. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[With  a  suggestive  delicacy.] 
What,  Louis?     Did  you  say  quieting? 

LA  FONTAINE 

[His  voice  half  winking.] 

Why  not,  Madame?  You're  both  most  excellent 
actors. 

Louis 

Exactly.  And  follow  it  with  an  interlude  of 
shepherds  for  the  ballet.  I'm  an  expert  dancer 
too.  And  then  another  scene  tender  and  peaceful 
for  the  lady  and  myself,  under  a  sycamore.  Some 
twenty  pages,  say. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Laughing.] 
Not  too  long  in  the  preamble,  Moliere.      [And 


64  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

then  slower,  more  warmly  than  she  knows.]      Let 
us  soon  come  to  the  loving. 

MOLIERE 

A  love  too  swiftly  given  is  a  love  too  swiftly 
done.  Sire,  the  actors  await  your  coming. 

[He  stands  aside  to  make  way  for  the  KING 
to  pass  into  the  theatre. 
I  hope  you  will  approve  of  our  scenes. 

Louis 

I  do  not  know.  A  play  is  like  a  woman.  One 
never  knows  if  it  is  good  or  not  until  it  is  over. 

[And  the  KING  exits,  followed  by  MOLIERE 
and  others.  At  the  door  MME.  DE  MONTE- 
SPAN  stops  ARMANDE.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
You  are  in  the  scenes,  Madame? 

ARMANDE 

No,  Madame,  not  these. 

[She  steps  nearer  to  the  door.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

A  word  with  you,  Madame.  Do  not  be  dis 
turbed.  His  Majesty  will  grant  permission  for  the 
comedy.  Moliere  has  already  won  his  heart  and 
I  have  spoken  in  his  favour.  You  both  have 
greatly  pleased  us. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  65 

ARMANDE 

[Bowing.] 
Madame. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Yes,  at  Chambord  you  were  exquisite. 

ARMANDE 

Madame. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

I  marvel  at  you. 

ARMANDE 
It  is  an  art  which  mellows  with  experience. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Quietly.  Hardly  looking  at  ARMANDE.] 
As  for  me  I  have  never  been  able  to  seem  what  I 
am  not,  but  I  regret  it.  We  are  but  tools  in  the 
hands  of  men,  our  masters,  unless  we  have  refuge 
in  seeming  what  we  are  not.  [A  pause.]  But, 
Madame,  perhaps  you  have  not  suffered  at  the 
hands  of  love? 

ARMANDE 

My  life  has  been  from  the  beginning  very 
guarded.  It  is  only  when  we  are  summoned  to  the 
fetes  at  Court  that  I  see  other  gentlemen  besides  the 
members  of  my  husband's  troupe.  And  they  are 
for  the  most  part  very  dull.  Actors  are  very  stu 
pid,  Madame;  most  of  them  without  real  feeling. 


66  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

You  players  are  for  ever  imagining  the  emotions 
of  others.  Is  that  why  you  have  so  few  yourselves? 

ARMANDE 
Perhaps,  Madame. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

I  have  been  watching  you  much,  Madame. 
[And  ARMANDE  looks  up  at  her.]  It  is  not  alone 
your  art  that  interests  me. 

ARMANDE 
No,  Madame? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Your  manners,  too,  are  so  graceful,  so  distin 
guished.  For  each  part  you  play  they  are  correct. 

ARMANDE 

I  have  learned  much  from  my  husband,  both  as 
to  manners  and  characterization.  He  has  the  fac 
ulty  of  watching  people  and  of  understanding  their 
souls. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Always,  Madame? 

ARMANDE 
Yes,  always. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  67 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Surely  it  is  easier  for  a  dramatist  to  know  men 
than  women?  As  for  me  I  think  I  never  know  a 
person  until  I  have  seen  them  weep.  It  is  when  we 
are  sad  that  the  soul  is  off  its  guard. 

[And  suddenly  she  looks  at  ARMANDE.] 

ARMANDE 

Jean  says  it  is  when  people  laugh  that  they  are 
most  themselves. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Perhaps  that  is  because  he  doesn't  like  to  weep. 
Have  you  ever  seen  him  weep,  Madame? 

ARMANDE 

No,  Madame. 
[A  pause.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Your  dresses  too,  Madame,  are  exquisite. 

ARMANDE 

They  are  of  my  own  design.  I  have  them  made 
thus  that  the  lines  of  the  body  should  not  be  hidden. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
You  are  an  artist  then. 

ARMANDE 
Thank  you,  Madame. 


68  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
But— 

[And  she  has  taken  a  step  nearer  to  her  and 
stands  looking  into  her  eyes.     ARMANDE,  feel 
ing  the  scrutiny,  tries  to  turn  away.] 
But — even  the  charm  of  your  acting  has  not  been 
able  to  hide  what  to  the  eye  of  a  woman  is  as  clear 
as  this  ring  here  on  my  finger.     Men  are  such  fools. 
They  so  often  seek  vain  shadows  in  the  midst  of 
realities.     It  is  a  beautiful  ring,  is  it  not,  my  dear? 
Louis  gave  it  to  me  the  first  time — ah,  well.     [  Then 
her  voice  takes  on  almost  a  note  of  command.] 
Come  closer  to  me,  child. 

ARMANDE 

Madame,  with  your  permission. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN      ( 
[Sweetly.] 
Yes,  Madame,  with  my  permission. 

ARMANDE 

I  have  a  long  part  at  rehearsal  tomorrow.     I 
have  left  the  lines  below  in  my  dressing-room. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[The  command  is  now  tenderness.] 
Why  do  you  turn  away  from  me?     I  am  Fran- 
goise  de  Montespan.     Do  you  think  I  do  not  know 
the  heart  of  a  woman? 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  69 

ARMANDE 
Madame,  I — 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

No.  Do  not  acknowledge,  do  not  deny.  Your 
great  sad  eyes  have  answered  me.  [She  has  taken 
her  hand.]  Your  husband  is  not  kind  to  you? 

ARMANDE 

[Confused,  it  is  difficult  to  withstand  the 
directness  of  her  pity.] 
Too  kind,  too  kind. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN      v 
[After  a  pause,  her  voice  almost  tremulous 
with  sympathy.] 

These  scorching  shackles  of  gentleness  are  the 
most  terrible  tyranny  of  all.  Come  closer  to  me, 
Armande.  You  will  permit  me  to  call  you  Ar- 
mande?  Perhaps  you  will  care  to  tell  me  when 
you  know  that  I  pity  you. 

ARMANDE 

Tell  you  what,  Madame?     What? 
MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

What  you  are  saying  clearly  though  you  do  not 
speak  a  word.  Do  you  not  want  to  tell  me?  Do 
you  not  want  to  tell  any  one?  Do  not  answer  me 
if  you  do  not  wish  to.  Shall  we  speak  of  something 
else? 

[Her  hand  is  on  the  girl's  shoulder.] 


70  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

ARMANDE 
[Suddenly.] 

Yes,  yes,  I  want  to  shriek  it  out  to  all  Paris — 
to  all  the  world. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Her  arm  about  her.] 

Softly,  softly,  my  dear.  Would  it  not  be  wiser 
to  whisper  it  to  a  woman?  [And  then  very  low.] 
You  do  not  love  your  husband? 

ARMANDE 
I — I —     He  has  my  respect,  my  admiration. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

You  are  right.  It  is  as  I  thought.  I  know,  I 
know.  One  never  loves  what  one  respects.  [There 
are  tears  in  her  voice.]  My  dear,  my  dear. 

ARMANDE 

[And  all  that  she  had  tried  to  suppress  wells 
up.] 

In  the  midst  of  his  love  which  stifles  me,  I  am 
alone,  alone! 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Stroking  her  hair.] 

You  are  a  young,  a  beautiful  woman;  have  you 
never  thought  a  way  out  of  this  loneliness? 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  71 

ARMANDE 

I  see  no  one;  I  know  no  one. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Smiling.] 

Then  the  rumours  of  the  attentions  of  the  cour 
tiers  are  but  empty  gossip. 

ARMANDE 
Yes. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Slowly  watching  the  effect  of  her  ivords.] 
Then  your  husband  doesn't  really  know  that  you 
love  de  Lauzun? 

ARMANDE 

[Springing  back.] 
Why  do  you  say  that? 

[Her  tone  has  told  all.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
So,  my  dear. 

ARMANDE 

I  have  not  seen  him  since  Chambord. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

No,  madame?  But  we're  in  Paris  now.  I.  too, 
have  loved,  madame.  I  have  watched  you.  You 
should  guard  your  voice, — your  voice  grows  hot 
when  he  comes  near  you. 


72  MOLIERE  [ACT  I 

ARMANDE 

No  one  knows. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
No  one  need  know,  my  child. 
[She  is  still  smiling.] 

ARMANDE 
Why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Your  youth  is  too  beautiful  to  be  wasted,  Ma 
dame.  I  do  not  think  that  God  desires  that.  Come 
closer  to  me;  I  pity  you.  [And  again  she  holds  out 
her  arms  to  her.]  Only  the  ecstasy  of  requited 
love  is  a  fitting  offering  to  lay  on  the  altar  of  the 
great  wonder  of  life.  Have  you  known  that  ec 
stasy?  It  is  that  which  makes  us  very  beautiful. 
It  is  that  which  makes  us  gods.  Nature  has  not 
meant  that  that  should  be  denied.  Ah,  madame, 
my  heart  bleeds  for  you. 

ARMANDE 

[She  is  weeping  now.] 

What  am  I  to  do?  I  am  for  ever  watched,  for 
ever  imprisoned  in  this  bitter  love  of  his. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[For  a  second  a  strange  look  in  her  eye.] 
It  is  a  great  love,  Madame;  crowded  into  a  mo 
ment  it  might  set  the  world  aflame. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  73 

ARMANDE 

Too  great,  too  great;  what  shall  I  do?  When  he 
is  away  I  know  I  love  de  Lauzun.  I  love  him;  I 
love  him.  When  he  speaks  to  me  it  is  my  heart 
that  listens.  When  he  looks  at  me  my  soul  goes 
out  to  meet  him.  This  morning,  Madame, — ah, 
what  a  fool  I  am, — I  stood  at  the  window  watching 
the  flight  of  the  swallows, — because  when  they  flew 
across  the  river  I  seemed  to  hear  his  laughter.  And 
on  the  way  back  from  Chambord  I  counted  the  mile 
posts,  one  by  one — when  we  passed  them  my  breath 
choked  me;  they  seemed  to  be  on  fire.  Each  one 
brought  me  nearer  to  Paris  and  to  him.  I  half 
hoped,  half  feared,  he  wrould  find  some  excuse  for 
coming  to  the  theatre  and  now  that  he  is  come  I  am 
afraid.  No  man  can  understand  this,  Madame; 
what  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  do? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Under  my  apartment  at  the  Palace  there  is  a  lit 
tle  garden.  No  one  enters  there  save  at  my  com 
mand.  Be  there  a  little  before  twilight  this  eve 
ning.  I  will  tell  de  Lauzun.  Shhh!  They  are 
coming  back.  No, — do  not  thank  me.  Say  noth 
ing.  I  am  your  friend.  Go;  do  not  stay  to  see 
de  Lauzun.  I  have  watched  your  husband  watch 
ing  you. 

[And  ARMANDE  exits  and  DE  MONTESPAN  is 
over  at  the  table  where  she  has  thrown  her 


74  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

gloves  among  some  books,  and  stands  with 
some  pages  of  the  manuscript  of  "The  Misan 
thrope"  in  her  hand  when  the  KING,  MOLIERE 
and  the  others  enter.] 

Louis 
Frangoise,  you  are  not  coming  to  hear  the  play? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

No,  Louis;  these  pages  have  intrigued  me  more. 
I'll  leave  you  to  decide  about  the  priests  and  hypo 
crites.  You  know  how  Bossuet  bores  me.  But 
this  I  find  closer  to  my  liking. 

Louis 

What  is  it,  Moliere? 

MOLIERE 

My  new  comedy,  "The  Misanthrope."  May  it 
be  an  honour  to  you  and  to  your  reign,  Your  Maj 
esty. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

It  will.  It's  deeply  felt.  Moliere,  how  have 
you  imagined  this? 

MOLIERE 
Madame,  I  am  a  dramatist. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
But  this  is  life. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  75 

MOLIERE 

Your  distinction  breeds  divorce.     Must  the  two 
be  separate? 

LA  FONTAINE 

Not  when  Moliere,  the  master,  weds  them  with 
his  art. 

Louis 

La  Fontaine,  you're  too  elaborate.     What's  the 
theme  of  this  comedy?     Perhaps  I'll  play  in  it. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Jealousy,  Your  Majesty,  jealousy  that  feeds  upon 
its  own  heart  even  tho  the  food  be  bitter. 

Louis 

I'll  hear  a  page. 

MOLIERE 

With  pleasure,  Sire,  but  what  of  the  priests  and 
my  poor  hypocrite  in  there? 

[He  points  towards  the  stage.] 

Louis 

Later  we'll  hear  the  rest  of  that.     But  now  a  page 
of  this  since  it  so  moves  this  lady  here. 

MOLIERE 

With  your  permission,  Sire. 

[By  this  time  the  rest  of  the  courtiers  have 


76  MOLIERE  [Aer  I 

entered  from  the  stage  and  stand  in  the  room. 
The  KING  seats  himself  as  MOLIERE  takes  the 
sheets  from  the  table.] 

Louis 

Choose  at  random,  Moliere.  A  speech  or  two 
so  that  we  may  taste  the  flavour  of  it. 

MOLIERE 

[Reading.] 

"Everywhere  I  see  nothing  but  base  flattery,  self- 
seeking,  injustice  and  deceit.  No,  I  can  bear  it  all 
no  longer  and  my  intention  is  to  break  for  ever  with 
all  mankind." 

Louis 

Yes,  it's  apparent  there's  a  woman  in  it. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
You're  cruel,  Louis. 

Louis 

Go  on,  Moliere. 

MOLIERE 

Now  Philinte  speaks:  "This  philosophic  mo- 
roseness  is,  I  think,  too  fierce." 

LA  FONTAINE 

[His  tongue  in  his  cheek] 
Yes,  I  agree  with  him. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  77 

Louis 

By  your  leave,  La  Fontaine,  this  is  a  comedy  and 
not  a  commentary. 

[And  at  this  moment  the  door  opens  and 
THE  KING'S  CHAMBERLAIN  enters.] 

THE  KING'S  CHAMBERLAIN 
Sire. 

Louis 
Well,  what  is  it? 

THE  KING'S  CHAMBERLAIN 
Your  pardon,  Majesty,  but  word  has  just  come 
from  the  Palace  from  your  Minister  Colbert  that 
you  have  promised  an  audience  to  the  ambassadors 
of  Spain  before  noon  today. 

Louis 

Does  my  Minister  Colbert  think  that  these  Am 
bassadors  are  more  important  than  the  comedies  of 
Moliere? 

THE  KING'S  CHAMBERLAIN 
Again,  Your  Majesty,  pardon,  but  your  Minister 
also  desires  me  to  tell  Your  Majesty  that  you've 
kept  the  Spanish  Ambassadors  waiting  for  more 
than  a  week. 

Louis 
[Annoyed.] 
What  shall  I  do,  Moliere? 


78  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

MOLIERE 

Sire,  out  of  respect  for  Madame,  your  wife,  who 
is  a  Spaniard,  I  think  you  should  see  them  before 
the  month  is  up. 

Louis 

I  do  not  relish  these  Ambassadors.  I  would  hear 
more  of  your  comedies.  There  are  too  many  am 
bassadors,  too  many  countries  and  too  many  kings. 
There  should  be  only  one  king  and  he  should  blaze 
like  the  sun. 

MOLIERE 

The  sun  of  France,  Sire. 

Louis 

Yes,  and  in  the  meantime  as  to  your  "Tartuffe" 
I've  heard  enough.  Let  the  priests  yelp.  You 
actors,  too,  are  God's  instruments.  Let  not  one  in 
strument  of  God  restrict  the  other.  Come  and  play 
it  at  the  Louvre.  Your  comedy  will  have  the  royal 
sanction. 

MOLIERE 

Thanks,  Your  Majesty. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Louis,  you  have  decided  well. 

Louis 

Frangoise,  I  always  do.  My  favour  is  my 
praise. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  79 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Pointing  to  MOLIERE.] 
None  has  deserved  it  more  than  he. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

He  should  be  crowned  with  laurels. 

MOLIERE 
Madame,  such  matters  do  but  scratch  the  brain. 

LA  FONTAINE 

He  is  the  chief  glory  of  your  reign,  Sire. 

Louis 

What's  that?  [His  pride  has  been  tactlessly' 
touched.]  Is  my  reign  to  be  remembered  for  Moli- 
ere  or  Moliere  for  my  reign? 

MOLIERE 
I  am  but  a  ray  of  your  refulgence,  Sire. 

Louis 

See  that  no  shadow  ever  dim  the  flame.     And 
now  we'll  see  these  Ambassadors.     Your  comedies 
have  put  me  in  the  proper  mood. 
[He  turns  to  go.] 

THE  KING'S  CHAMBERLAIN 
The  King!     Make  way  for  His  Majesty  the  King! 
[And  then  follows  a  scene  of  bustling  cour- 


80  MOLIERE  [Acx  I 

tesy  attending  the  departure  of  the  King.  As 
DE  LAUZUN  passes  MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN 
she  stops  him.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Tonight  in  my  garden,  at  twilight. 

[The  courtiers  are  leaving;  there  is  much 
bowing  and  formality  but  in  the  end  MOLIERE 
is  left  alone  and  sits  down  to  write.] 

LA  FOREST 
[Quietly  entering.] 
Shall  we  go  on  now,  Master? 

MOLIERE 
No,  not  now.     Where's  Armande? 

LA  FOREST 
In  her  dressing-room,  studying  her  lines. 

MOLIERE 

Tell  the  actors  they  are  free  until  this  afternoon's 
rehearsal. 

LA  FOREST 
All  has  gone  well,  Master? 

MOLIERE 

Yes,  yes. 

LA  FOREST 
God  be  praised.     And  I'll  let  no  one  in. 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  81 

[She  goes  about  quietly  closing  the  doors 
and  exits  to  the  stage  to  tell  the  actors  they  are 
dismissed.  MOLIERE  sits  in  the  sunlight, 
thinking,  his  quill  lifted,  waiting  for  the  mo 
ment  of  inspiration.  He  writes  a  word  or  two. 
A  pause.  He  leans  upon  his  arm.  Then  he 
is  up  pacing  about  the  room,  mumbling  the 
speeches  to  himself.  He  has  reached  the  door 
that  leads  to  the  stage  and  turns  in  amazement 
for  standing  in  the  passageway  that  leads  from 
the  street  he  sees  DE  MONTESPAN.] 

MOLIERE 
Madame! 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

A  moment,  Moliere;   pardon  but  I've  left  my 
glove  there  on  your  table. 

[And  he  brings  it  over  to  her  and  hands  it 
to  her  with  a  bow.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

A  word,  Moliere,  before  you  bow  too  low.     Do 
you  not  think  that  I  am  your  friend? 

MOLIERE 
Madame,  I  hope  so. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

I  will  give  you  proof.     Come  to  my  apartments 
this  evening  if  you  would  serve  me. 


82  MOLIERE  [Acr  I 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  this  evening — 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Do  not  say  no,  Moliere,  for  once  before  I  bade 
you  come. 

MOLIERE 

[A  little  hesitantly  for  there  is  something  in 
her  manner  which  he  mistrusts.] 
If  I  can  serve  you,  Madame. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

You  can  and  that  will  greatly  please  me  for  1 
thought,  perhaps,  your  allegiance  was  only  to  the 
King. 

MOLIERE 

If  I  serve  one  who  is  dear  to  His  Majesty,  do  I 
not  also  serve  the  King? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

That  is  well  answered.  [Her  tone  is  low,  per 
haps  to  hide  a  note  of  command.]  You  will  come? 

MOLIERE 

Yes,  madame,  I  will  come. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

A  little  after  twilight,  Moliere.  [And  now  her 
words  are  even  lower  and  in  her  voice  there  is  the 


ACT  I]  MOLIERE  83 

beginning  of  something  half  hope,  half  passion.] 
Remember,  a  little  after  twilight. 

[And  she  is  gone  and  he  stands  looking 

after  her,  an  expression  of  misgiving  in  his 

eyes  as  the  curtain  falls.] 


ACT  II 


THE  CHARACTERS  IN  ACT  II  ARE 

MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN. 
LA  FONTAINE. 

GIOVANNI  LULLI,  the  Court  Musician. 
HERCULES,  a  black  boy,  Page  to  Madame  de  Monte- 
span. 
THE  KING 

MOLIERE 

and  two  Ladies-in-W  ailing  to  de  Monies  pan, 

The  scene  is  the  Apartments  of  MADAME  DE  MON 
TESPAN. 

The  time  of  the  action  of  Act  II  is  twilight  of  the 
same  day  as  Act  I. 


ACT  II 

The  apartment  of  MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN,  a  room 
in  the  most  exquisite  style  of  the  period  of 
Louis  XIV.  In  an  alcove  is  a  low  bed,  the 
frame  of  which  is  made  of  embossed  silver. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  room  is  a  tall  window 
which  looks  below  into  the  court  or  tiny  pri 
vate  garden  of  the  KING'S  Mistress.  Opposite 
the  window  is  a  small  door  in  a  panel  in  the 
wall. 

MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  is  at  her  mirror.  One  of 
her  ladies  is  bending  over  arranging  DE  MON- 
TESPAN'S  hair.  Another  stands  a  little  to  one 
side,  a  bottle  of  perfume  in  her  hand.  On  the 
toilet  table  are  various  trinkets,  among  them  a 
tiny  watch,  and  near  by  in  a  golden  vase  are 
some  deep  purple  Iris  flowers.  At  DE  MON- 
TESPAN'S  feet  on  a  cushion  sits  HERCULES,  her 
little  blackamoor,  with  a  tremendous  jewelled 
turban  on  his  head.  On  one  side  of  the  room 
is  LULLI  seated  at  a  harpsichord  and  on  the 
other  is  LA  FONTAINE,  a  book  in  hand.  The 
two  men  are  alternately  reading  and  playing 

to  the  Mistress  of  the  King  as  she  makes  her 

87 


88  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

toilet.  LA  FONTAINE  is  more  absent-jninded 
than  usual  and  has  stopped  in  the  middle  of 
a  fable  he  is  improvising  and  is  unable  to  go 
on. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Well,  what  happens;  how  does  the  fable  end? 

LA  FONTAINE 

I  have  forgotten,  Madame.  [Attempting  to  re 
call  the  story.]  Dear  me,  what  was  it  about? 
Well,  never  mind ;  I  will  begin  another. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

If  it  is  not  too  long  perhaps  you  will  remember 
this  one. 

LA  FONTAINE 

Let  me  see.  Let  me  see.  [He  sits  for  a  mo 
ment  in  thought.]  Yes,  yes.  [And  he  begins  his 
story.]  "The  Dove  and  the  Ant"— 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Is  it  short? 

LA  FONTAINE 

No  longer  than  Hercules.  [He  bends  over  and 
taps  the  boy  on  the  head.]  Black  Boy,  do  you  want 
to  hear  my  fable? 

HERCULES 

Wait  until  I  have  eaten  my  chocolate.      [And 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  89 

taking  one  from  a  gilded  box  in  a  cushion  next  to 
him  he  gulps  it  down.]      Now  begin. 

[LA  FONTAINE  sits  thinking  what  the  tale  is 
about.  A  pause.  LULLI  strums  a  few  bars 
on  the  harpsichord.] 

[To  LULLI.] 
•    Be  still  or  I  will  throw  my  candies  at  you. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[To  LULLI.] 

We'll  have  the  tale  without  accompaniment,  Gio 
vanni.  [The  Ladies  laugh.  Then  to  LA  FON 
TAINE.]  Goon. 

LA  FONTAINE 
My  fable  is  about  some  very  little  animals. 

HERCULES 
Smaller  than  the  King's  dog? 

LA  FONTAINE 

Yes,  for  one  of  them  is  an  ant,  and  the  other  is 
a  dove.  Now  I  will  begin.  [And  they  all  sit  lis 
tening.]  At  the  side  of  a  brook  a  dove  is  drink 
ing  when,  lo,  an  ant  tumbles  into  the  water. 

HERCULES 

Does  the  ant  get  drowned? 


90  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Be  still,  Hercules;  how  would  the  tale  go  on  if 
the  hero  is  drowned  at  the  very  beginning? 

LA  FONTAINE 

My  lad,  wait  and  listen.  Be  more  patient.  Hu 
manity  is  less  patient  than  the  unthinking  beasts. 
Where  was  I?  [A  pause.]  Oh,  yes.  [And  then 
he  goes  on  with  his  fable.]  Even  now  the  ant  is 
struggling  to  reach  the  shore  but  all  in  vain,  for  to 
him  the  tiny  brook  seems  vaster  than  the  sea. 

HERCULES 
Go  on.     Go  on. 

LA  FONTAINE 

[With  lifted  finger.] 
But  the  dove  is  kind. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Why  not,  for  the  dove  is  love's  symbol  and  love 
is  kind.  [Then  to  one  of  the  ladies.]  Do  the 
lackeys  know  to  have  Monsieur  Moliere  wait  in  the 
little  room  beyond  the  corridor? 

THE  FIRST  LADY 
Madame,  we  have  so  told  them. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  91 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Continuing.] 

And  so  the  dove  with  quick  charity  throws  a  leaf 
into  the  stream  and  the  ant  climbs  on  the  leaf  and 
thus  is  saved. 

HERCULES 

[Looking  up  from  his  candies.] 
And  is  that  all? 

MME,  DE  MONTESPAN 

When  you  are  older,  my  black  boy,  you  will 
know  that  life  saves  us  from  one  danger  but  to  lead 
us  to  another. 

[Then  to  one  of  the  ladies.] 
See  if  Moliere  is  not  waiting  in  the  ante-room. 
[THE  FIRST  LADY  goes  out.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Feeling  LULLI'S  eyes  upon  her.] 
But  wre  have  forgotten  your  story,  my  fable  tree. 

LULLI 

[Impatiently.] 

Madame,  I  have  composed  a  minuet  for  you. 
Shall  I  play  it? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

No,  not  now.  [Then  to  LA  FONTAINE.]  What 
of  the  dove? 


92  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

LA  FONTAINE 
The  dove's  in  danger. 

HERCULES 
[Looking  up.] 
Yes? 

LA  FONTAINE 

For  a  peasant  with  bare  feet  passes  and  in  his 
hand  is  a  bow  and  when  he  sees  the  dove  he  lifts  his 
bow  to  kill  it. 

HERCULES 

I  don't  want  him  to  kill  it.  I  don't  want  him  to 
kill  it.  Doves  are  white.  Mme.  de  Montespan 
says  her  throat  is  as  white  as  a  dove's.  If  he  kills 
the  dove  I  will  tell  the  King. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Stop  your  chatter.  [Then  to  LA  FONTAINE.] 
Well,  what  happens? 

LA  FONTAINE 

Just  a  minute,  Madame;  just  a  minute,  there! 
I'm  afraid  I've  quite  forgotten. 

HERCULES 
If  you  don't  know  I  will  ask  Moliere. 

LULLI 

What? 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  93 

HERCULES 

[Pointing  to  DE  MONTESPAN.] 

Madame  Francoise  says  there  is  nothing  that  Mo- 
liere  doesn't  know. 

[He  begins  eating  another  chocolate.] 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Who  has  been  thinking  of  the  end  of  his 
story.] 
Ah!     Now  I  know  the  end. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Well,  go  on. 

LA  FONTAINE 

Let  me  see —     Come  over  to  me,  Hercules,  and 
you  shall  hear  the  end  of  my  fable. 
[The  boy  goes  over  to  him.] 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Taking  his  hand.] 

As  the  man  is  about  to  shoot  the  dove  the  ant 
stings  him  in  the  heel  and  as  he  turns  his  head  the 
dove  is  gone,  thus  his  supper  flies  away  and  there 
isn't  a  penny's  worth  of  pigeon  left. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Clapping  her  harids.] 

Bravo!  Bravo!  You're  improving,  my  fable 
tree.  You  have  remembered  all  of  it. 


94  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

LA  FONTAINE 

I  am  well  pleased  myself,  Madame,  that  I've 
remembered  all.  Alas,  I  forget  everything.  I 
haven't  seen  my  wife  for  years.  The  only  way  we 
could  stay  together  was  by  living  apart.  I  do  not 
even  recall  what  she  looks  like.  [Then  with  a 
sigh.]  In  life  sometimes  it  is  good  to  forget  but 
not  in  fables.  That  is  why  I  make  my  fables  so 
short  lest  I  forget  how  they  started.  Indeed,  Ma 
dame,  some  day  I  am  afraid  that  on  a  gay  dog  I 
will  tie  a  sad  tale  or  make  the  weeping  willows 
laugh. 

[THE  FIRST  LADY  returns.] 

THE  FIRST  LADY 
Madame,  no  one  is  waiting  in  the  ante-room. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Not  yet,  not  yet? 

LA  FONTAINE 
Will  you  hear  another  fable? 

HERCULES 

[Decidedly.] 

No,  sir,  for  you  take  too  long  to  tell  them,  nor 
are  you  so  great  a  writer  as  the  montebank,  Moliere. 
So  says  my  lady  de  Montespan.  Will  you  take  me 
some  day,  Madame,  if  there  is  room  in  your  great 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  95 

coach  for  the  King,  besides  yourself  and  me,  to  see 
this  animal  man's  menagerie? 

LA  FONTAINE 

You  will  have  to  be  tinier  than  you  are,  my  ebony 
boy. 

HERCULES 

[Not  to  be  thwarted.] 
I  will  go ;  I  will  go.     Why  must  I  be  tinier? 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Pointing  to  his  head  and  with  his  voice 
smilingly  poised  in  whimsy.] 
To  enter  here  for  all  these  great  and  little  beasts 
live  in  the  minutest  chambers  of  my  brain. 

HERCULES 

Madame,  this  fellow  tires  me.      [Then  pointing 
to  LULLI.]      Have  your  Giovanni  play  his  minuet. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Touching  her  lips  with  a  last  bit  of  rouge.] 
Is  there  time  for  dancing  before  the  twilight 
falls? 

LULLI 

Madame,  there  is  always  time  for  my  minuet. 
I  am  Lulli,  musician  to  the  King. 


96  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

So?  [Then  less  lightly  to  one  of  the  ladies.] 
Go  to  my  window  and  see  if  any  one  is  waiting  be 
low  in  my  garden. 

THE  SECOND  LADY 

[At  the  window,  looking  out.] 
There  is  a  woman  waiting  beneath  the  statue  of 
Cupid. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Smiling.] 

She  will  not  be  there  alone  for  very  long.  Now 
if  there  is  still  a  moment  before  Moliere  comes  we 
will  have  the  music,  my  Giovanni. 

LULLI 
[Angrily.] 
Can  you  not  keep  this  actor  waiting? 

LA  FONTAINE 

Why  so  hot,  Giovanni?  Is  there  not  room  at 
court  for  all  of  us? 

LULLI 

[His  temper  rising.] 

Not  for  Moliere.  When  self-opinion  grows  too 
big  it  may  burst  its  own  too  pompous  head. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  97 

LA  FONTAINE 

Then  you  had  best  have  your  own  wig  tightened, 
my  Italian. 

LULLI 

This  actor  is  an  upstart,  the  son  of  a  tradesman. 

LA  FONTAINE 

Sometimes  the  lowest  bushes  bear  the  reddest 
roses. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Looking  up  at  him.] 
Yes,  that  is  so,  my  fable  tree. 

LULLI 

The  son  of  an  upholsterer.     Bah! 

LA  FONTAINE 

Remember  your  own  beginning,  my  Giovanni. 
Is  not  a  counter  in  a  shop  as  soft  a  cradle  as  a 
scullery? 

LULLI 

That's  a  lie,  La  Fontaine. 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Dryly.] 

But  we  must  all  begin  somewhere,  I  suppose,  and 
of  that,  words  avail  us  naught.  Have  you  ever 
thought,  Madame,  that  at  birth  we  say  nothing  and 


98  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

at  death  it  matters  little  what  we  say  though  in  the 
interim  we  may  have  filled  the  world  with  all  the 
idle  gossip  of  our  days? 

LULLI 

/  am  something  at  Court.  /  am  music  master  to 
the  children  of  the  King. 

LA  FONTAINE 

And  alas,  Moliere  is  too  often  player  to  the  pleas 
ure  of  the  King.  He  wastes  his  genius  on  these 
trifles  for  the  court. 

LULLI 
His  genius  goes  too  far,  Madame. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[For  there  is  something  in  his  voice  which 
arrests  her.] 
What? 

LULLI 
He  has  insulted  you. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Swiftly.] 

What's  that? 

LULLI 

Do  you  not  know  that  he  has  written  a  play  in 
which  he  has  had  the  temerity  to  satirize  you, 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  99 

Madame,  and  your  husband  and  even  His  Majesty, 
the  King? 

LA  FONTAINE 

That's  a  lie. 

LULLI 

Boileau  heard  the  comedy.  He  was  telling  me 
at  Chambord.  In  this  play,  this  actor,  with  his 
tongue  in  his  cheek,  has  made  sport  of  you,  Ma 
dame. 

LA  FONTAINE 

Madame,  do  not  believe  this. 

LULLI 

He  even  boasts  that  he  will  have  it  printed. 

LA  FONTAINE 

That  is  not  true.  Moliere  is  too  loyal  to  the 
King. 

LULLI 
Is  he? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

More  loyal  to  his  King  than  you  are  to  your 
friend,  Giovanni.  There  is  some  mistake.  The 
King  must  not  hear  of  this. 

HERCULES 

[Jumping  up.} 

I  will  tell  him  if  you  do  not  give  me  another 
box  of  sugar  plums. 


100  MOLIERE  [ACT  II 

LA  FONTAINE 
So,  my  little  courtier,  you  are  learning  early. 

LULLI 

[Significantly.] 

If  the  King  hears  of  this,  the  curtain  falls  for 
ever  on  Moliere. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
There  is  some  mistake. 

LULLI 

Even  this  Moliere  can  go  too  far. 

LA  FONTAINE 
Do  not  believe  until  you  know. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
I  don't. 

[She  has  gone  over  to  the  window  and  is 
looking  out.] 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Straight  at  LULLI  and  the  words  hit  him  in 
the  face.] 

Maybe  the  desire  breeds  the  lie. 
[A  pause.] 

LULLI 

What  of  my  minuet,  Madame? 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  101 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Yes,  we  have  forgotten, — play. 

[LuLLi  sits  at  the  harpsichord  and  begins 
playing  the  first  measures  of  his  minuet.] 

HERCULES 

[Going  over  to  DE  MONTESPAN.] 
I  have  been  learning  some  new  steps,  Madame. 
[And  then  he  bows  to  her  until  his  turban  sweeps 
the  floor.}      Will  you  do  me  the  honour,  Madame, 
will  you  dance  with  me? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[To  LA  FONTAINE.] 
Will  you  dance,  too,  my  fable  tree? 

LA  FONTAINE 

No,  if  he  doesn't  play  too  loudly  I  will  doze. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[To  LULLI.] 

Begin  again. 

[And  she  takes  the  hand  of  the  child  and 
they  begin  to  dance  a  few  measures.  Then 
she  breaks  from  him  and  rushes  over  to  the 
window  and  as  he  plays  LULLI  watches  her.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[At  the  ivindoiv.] 
At  last,  at  last.     I  thought  the  lady  would  not  be 


102  :;          MQUERE  [AcT  II 

long  alone.  Play  louder,  Giovanni.  [She  is  back 
in  the  room,  her  voice  aglow.]  Louder,  louder. 
Come,  Hercules,  and  we  shall  finish.  [Then  as 
they  dance.]  Where  have  you  learned  these  pretty 
steps? 

HERCULES 
[Pirouetting.] 

I  peeped  thru  the  door  when  the  children  of  the 
King  were  at  their  lesson.  Point  the  right  toe 
thus  as  you  turn  round. 

[And  he  shows  her.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Some  day  with  these  tripping  steps  you  may  win 
a  dusky  lady's  heart. 

HERCULES 
Not  with  my  toe's  point  but  my  sword's. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[With  a  peal  of   laughter.]     You  men  are 
all  so  masterful. 

[They  go  on  dancing  a  measure  or  two. 
Suddenly  LULLI  stops,  for  standing  in  the 
doorway  of  the  alcove  is  the  KING.  They  all 
turn  and  bow  to  his  Majesty.] 

Louis 

[Stepping  into  the  room.] 
No,  do  not  stop.     I  like  to  find  France  dancing. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  103 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Gaily.] 
And  will  you  join  us? 

Louis 

Not  now.  Tomorrow,  maybe.  Or  if  not  to 
morrow,  then  in  a  day  or  two,  if  you  are  still  danc 
ing  when  I  am  back. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Glancing  towards  the  door.] 
You  are  leaving  Paris,  Louis? 

Louis 
Francoise,  I  thought  I  told  you  that  this  morning. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
God  forgive  me,  Louis,  but  I  had  quite  forgotten. 

Louis 

Madame,  it  were  best  to  remember  the  comings 
and  the  goings  of  a  King.  I  leave  for  Fontaine- 
bleau  in  some  few  minutes  now.  I  have  come  to 
say  farewell. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[To  the  others.] 
Pray  leave  us. 

[They  are  all  bowing  to  the  King.] 


104  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

Louis 

[To  LA  FONTAINE.] 
La  Fontaine,  will  you  join  the  hunt? 

LA  FONTAINE 

Sire,  with  your  permission  I  would  not  slay  with 
my  hand  the  animals  that  my  art  makes  live. 
[He  is  bowing  to  the  King.} 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[Swiftly  to  her  ladies.} 
Wait  in  the  passage  till  I  call  you. 

[LuLLi    is    watching    them.     The    Ladies 
exit.  ] 

Louis 

[To  LULLI.] 

And  you,  Lulli,  do  you  wish  to  go  along?     The 
hunting's  good  at  Fontainebleau. 

LULLI 

[Glancing  at  MME.  DE  MONTESPAN.] 
In  Paris,  too,  Your  Majesty. 

Louis 

[For  he  has  caught  some  hidden  meaning  in 
the  tone.} 

What's  that? 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  105 

LULLI 

Sire,  we  are  all  huntsmen,  following  the  brush 
of  your  desire.  Some  gallop  slow  as  I,  some  fast 
as  this  Moliere  of  yours,  but  at  the  day's  end  of 
the  chase  we  are  all  waiting  for  the  prize  of  your 
fair  favour.  Alas,  I  cannot  join  you,  Sire,  for  this 
evening  I  have  promised  Her  Majesty  a  little  con 
cert  of  some  sacred  tunes. 

Louis 

Some  day  I  fear  Her  Majesty,  quite  unawares, 
will  drift  straight  up  to  God,  on  the  wings  of  all 
this  hymning.  Too  much  incense  chokes  me. 
I've  just  seen  the  Queen.  I  always  do  on  Wednes 
day.  But  she  smelt  so  much  of  saints  and  paradise 
that  for  these  last  few  minutes,  Franchise,  I'll 
spend  the  time  with  you. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[B  oiving.] 

Louis,  not  only  these  few  moments,  but  all  my 
life  is  yours.     Lulli,  La  Fontaine — 
[She  boivs  to  them.] 

LA  FONTAINE 

[At  the  door.] 
Was  my  fable  finished? 

Louis 
If  not,  you  may  go  on  tomorrow. 


106  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

LA  FONTAINE 

Sire,  with  the  greatest  of  pleasure. 
[And  he  exits.} 

LULLI 

[Insinuatingly.] 
Some  day,  Madame,  you  will  hear  my  minuet? 

Louis 

[Now  a  little  irritated.] 

Yes,  but  for  the  moment  let  us  let  music  wait  its 
own  necessity. 

[ LULLI,  bowing,  exits.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[To  HERCULES.] 

Well,  Hercules,  my  little  Argus,  go  now.  [And 
then  pointing  it  beyond  mistake.]  And  see  that 
the  lackeys  let  no  one  enter. 

[The  boy  exits  and  she  turns  to  face  the 
King.] 

Louis 
Frangoise,  it  grieves  me  to  leave  you  for  today. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Louis,  it  saddens  me  to  see  you  go.  When  you 
are  gone,  I  sit  in  darkness  waiting  for  the  dawn. 

Louis 

Would  God  had  given  my  wife  your  honeyed 
tongue. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  107 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
What's  that? 

Louis 

So  that  when  I  am  with  her,  she  would  remind 
me  more  of  you.  With  her  each  half  an  hour 
drags  the  dull  day's  length,  with  you  each  hour 
seems  but  a  happy  moment. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

That  is  because  we  know  the  wisdom,  you  and 
I,  of  crowding  all  into  the  moment.  All  of  our 
love,  all  of  our  life.  France,  you  will  never  know 
how  much  I  love  you. 

Louis 

[Lyrically.] 

Frangoise,  I  never  want  to  know.  Love  is  the 
endless  finding  of  more  love.  [Then  more 
prosily.]  Do  you  know  I  think  if  I  had  time,  I 
might  have  been  a  poet,  but  if  one  would  be  a  King 
[with  a  sigh]  one  must  give  up  all  else. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

You  are  a  poet,  Louis.  Your  deeds  are  epics. 
Your  whims  are  history  and  you,  sire,  [she  thinks 
for  a  moment  just  how  to  put  it]  well, — you  are 
the  State. 


108  MOLIERE  [Acx  ii 

Louis 

[Thoughtfully.] 

I  the  State?  Frangoise,  that's  a  phrase  that's 
worth  remembering.  I  am  the  State.  The  State 
is  I. 

[He  is  enjoying  the  sound  of  it.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Nodding  her  agreement.] 
Yes,  Louis,  it's  better  that  way.     The  State  is  I. 

Louis 

[Repeating.] 

The  State  is  I.  Thanks  for  the  wording,  Fran 
goise. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Why,  nonsense,  Louis,  what  is  the  wording,  when 
the  thought  was  yours? 

Louis 

Well  then  we'll  share  the  thought,  tho  I'll  retain 
the  glory. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Again  glancing  at  the  door.] 
When  are  you  leaving,  sire? 

Louis 
Soon,  Frangoise. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  109 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[More  eagerly  than  she  knows.] 
Soon? 

Louis 

Yes,  Madame.     But,  by  your  question,  would 
you  make  it  sooner? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Swiftly.] 

I  wish  you  did  not  have  to  go  at  all. 

Louis 

There's  too  much  harping  on  my  going.     Fran- 
coise,  what's  in  your  mind? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Covering  the  slip.] 
Something  that  I  hope  will  please  you. 

Louis 

What,  then? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Beaming  with  bright  candor.] 
Shall  I  go  with  you,  Louis? 

Louis 

I  think  the  question  hints  that  you  would  rather 
not. 


110  MOLIERE  [ACT  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
If  you  don't  wish  it  then,  of  course — 

Louis 
And  you? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Sire,  if  you  wish  me,  I  will  go,  but  shall  I  speak 
frankly? 

Louis 

Why  not?  One  must  speak  frankly  to  one's 
King  and  to  one's  God. 

[And   in  the  sequence  God  goes   by  the 
board.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Louis,  you  know  I  am  only  happy  when  I'm  with 
you,  but  today — well — I  am  a  little  tired;  and  to 
morrow,  I  had  planned  a  day's  rest  in  some  still 
retreat.  The  Court's  High  Season  has  spent  my 
strength,  Your  Majesty.  [She  is  smiling  sugges 
tively.]  I  think  I  am  a  little  pale.  [She  turns  to 
her  mirror.] 

Louis 

A  trace,  perhaps,  but  not  less  beautiful.      [He 
steps  nearer  to  her.]     Ah,  I  shall  miss  you.     Let 
me  carry  with  me  the  sweet  odour  of  your  hair. 
[He  takes  her  in  his  arms.] 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  111 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Looking  over  his  shoulder  at  the  door.] 
Louis,  Louis. 

Louis 

[Insinuatingly.] 
By  tomorrow  evening,  you  will  come  to  me? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[In  his  arms.] 

Sire,  if  I  am  better,  by  tomorrow  noon.  Why 
do  you  go  at  all? 

Louis 

Because  tho  I  am  a  King  I  am  still  a  slave. 
Some  months  ago  this  hunt  was  planned  for  these 
Ambassadors.  It's  the  last  courtesy.  It  is  not  fit 
ting  that  a  last  courtesy  should  be  omitted,  lest  all 
the  others  be  forgotten. 

MME.  DE  MOXTESPAN 

But,  for  a  day,  then,  Sire. 
[She  bows  to  him.] 

Louis 

[With  an  echo  of  displeasure.] 
Frangoise,  I  have  not  yet  bowed  to  you.     Would 
you  thus  hint  to  hasten  my  departure? 


112  MOLIERE  [ACT  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Laughing  a  little  nervously.] 
How  you  misread  me!  Give  me  time,  Sire,  and 
I'll  go  dress  and  go  with  you,  tho  I  never  was 
more  spent.  [She  has  seated  herself  and  leans 
back  tiredly.]  There,  I'm  better.  Shall  I  go  with 
you?  [Then  swiftly.]  No?  Then  next  week, 
let  us  go  alone, — you  and  I, — and  steal  a  holiday 
in  some  hidden  hut,  deep  in  the  woods,  at  Ver 
sailles?  Imagine  we  two  quite  alone.  [She  is 
smiling  languidly.]  Louis,  Louis,  quite  alone. 

[She  holds  out  her  arms  to  him.] 

Louis 

Frangoise,  in  the  gallop  of  the  horses  I  shall  feel 
the  beat  of  your  heart.  Would  that  tomorrow 
were  today. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Only  for  these  few  hours,  Sire.  There,  see  how 
your  love  brings  my  strength  back  to  me. 

[She  has  risen  and  again  bowed  and  subtly 
the  suggestion  reaches  him.] 

Louis 
You're  right.     It's  time  to  go. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Not  yet, — but  if  you  must  go,  good  night  and 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  113 

think  of  me.      [He  is  at  the  door.     She  calls  him 

back.]     My  King!     My  King! 

[For  a  moment  they  embrace,  then  he  is 
gone.  She  stands  for  a  little  while  listening 
and  then  suddenly  rushes  over  to  the  door  that 
leads  into  the  corridor.] 

MME.  DE  MOXTESPAN 

[Calling  down  the  passage.] 
Madame! 

[THE  SECOND  LADY  enters.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Anxiously.] 
Well?     Well? 

THE  SECOND  LADY 

Madame,  Lulli  is  outside  and  craves  a  word  with 
you. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[On  the  tip  of  temper.] 

What's  that?     Lulli?     Bid  him  come  back  to 
morrow. 

THE  SECOND  LADY 

Madame,  your  pardon,  but  he  says  the  matter 
presses. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
We'll  have  him  in  then.     And  see  that  no  one 


114  MOLIERE  [AcT  II 

goes  near  my  garden.     Lovers  need  but  the  night 
and  the  first  sweet  rising  of  the  moon. 

[THE  SECOND  LADY  exits.  MADAME  DE 
MONTESPAN  turns  from  the  door  as  LULLI 
enters.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Hurriedly.] 
Well,  what  do  you  want  of  me? 

LULLI 

There  is  still  time  before  Moliere  arrives.  I 
warn  you. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
What's  that,  Giovanni? 

LULLI 

I  speak  for  your  sake,  not  for  mine.  Madame, 
you  are  playing  with  fire. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Keep  your  hand  out  of  the  flame  then  lest  your 
thumb  be  burnt.  Moliere  is  coming  to  do  a  serv 
ice  for  the  King. 

LULLI 

Madame,  it  would  not  be  well  if  he  stop  on  the 
way.  I  am  your  friend. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  115 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

When  it  proves  most  friendly  to  yourself  you're 
always  friend.  I  do  not  think  you  swallow  well 
this  favour  of  Moliere's.  Is  the  taste  too  bitter, 
Lulli? 

LULLI 

Madame,  I  would  die  but  to  touch  the  hem  of 
your  gown. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

You  dare! 

[THE  FIRST  LADY  enters.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Eagerly.] 
Well? 

THE  FIRST  LADY 

Madame,  Moliere  is  waiting  in  the  little  room 
beyond  the  corridor. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[And  her  voice  is  uncontrolled.] 
At  last!     At  last!      Show  him  in. 
[THE  FIRST  LADY  exits.] 

LULLI 

[Threateningly.] 
You  will  not  listen. 


116  MOLIERE  [ACT  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Gaily.] 
What's  that,  Giovanni? 

LULLI 

[Slowly  and  with  insinuation.] 
Madame,  I  warn  you  I  am  Giovanni  Lulli. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Lulli,  I  do  not  warn  you  but  I  am  de  Montespan. 
Now  go! 

[ LULLI  exits  and  she  is  over  at  her  toilet 
table  touching  her  lips  with  a  last  drop  of 
perfume  and  turns  to  face  MOLIERE.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Ah,  Moliere,  good  evening.  Pray  sit  down. 
No?  As  you  will.  Moliere,  I  think  you  do  not 
like  me.  Am  I  wrong? 

MOLIERE 

We  are  all  servants  of  the  King,  Madame,  and 
you  are  dear  to  him. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

By  indirection  you  are  more  direct.  I  know 
you  do  not  like  me.  But  what  matter, — and  yet  it 
does  matter.  All  my  life  I  have  wanted  people  to 
care  for  me.  At  the  convent  when  I  was  a  little 
girl  one  of  the  nuns  did  not  love  me  once  and  be- 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  117 

cause  she  did  not  love  me  I  set  fire  to  her  veil  with 
a  candle  from  the  altar, — from  the  high  altar  where 
they  were  about  to  say  mass,  Moliere.  I  do  not 
know  whether  God  has  ever  forgiven  me  that. 

MOLIERE 

Let  us  hope  so.  There  are  so  many  masses, 
Madame,  and  perhaps  God  didn't  miss  the  veil. 
What  happened  to  you? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

For  three  days  I  prayed,  weeping  at  the  shrine 
of  Our  Lady,  and  my  body  was  fed  on  too  little 
because  I  had  loved  too  much.  But  that  is  long 
ago  and  the  past  is  over.  But  memories  still  come 
crowding.  Is  it  not  so,  Moliere? 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  your  pardon,  I  am  a  comedian  and  to 
a  comedian  the  present  ever  presses.  A  comedian's 
faith  is  in  the  moment's  laughter  rather  than  in  the 
fading  pageants  of  the  past.  You  asked  me  to 
come  to  you,  Madame? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

You  are  too  swift.  I  think  less  speed  would 
breed  more  chivalry. 

MOLIERE 

I  am  a  very  blunt  man,  Madame.  It  is  perhaps 
because  as  I  end  my  lines  with  a  needed  rhyme  I 


118  MOLIERE  [ACT  II 

strive  to  edge  my  acts  with  their  needed  necessity. 
You  asked  me  to  come  to  you — 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Of  course,  of  course.  Otherwise  I  think  you 
would  not  come.  You  do  not  know  why  I  sent  for 
you? 

[There  is  a  moment's  pause  in  which  she 
looks  at  him.] 

MOLIERE 

No,  Madame;  your  whims  are  famous.  Perhaps 
you'd  have  me  scale  the  Tower  of  St.  Jacques. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[And  her  eyes  smile.] 
To  read  the  hard  hearts  of  the  gargoyles. 

MOLIERE 

Perhaps?  Sometimes  a  stone's  heart  is  softer 
than  a  woman's  will. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Laughing] 
No,  it  isn't  that. 

MOLIERE 

[Answering  the  gaiety  of  her  mood.] 
Or  perhaps  you'd  have  me  drink  up  the  Seine. 
God  forbid ;  it's  muddy,  Madame,  near  the  city. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  119 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

1  think  you  are  more  thirsty  for  my  reason  than 
the  river. 

MOLIERE 

[With  an  echo  of  impatience.] 
I  am. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

I  bade  you  come  to  me  to  please  the  King,  Mo- 
liere. 

MOLIERE 

I  am  his  servant.     What  do  you  wish  of  me? 
MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Whatever  I  wish  of  you  your  genius  will  accom 
plish. 

MOLIERE 
Thanks  for  your  faith,  Madame. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Next  Tuesday  is  Louis'  birthday.  I  have  sent 
for  you  to  ask  your  aid  in  the  preparations  for  the 
festivities.  Will  you  write  a  little  comedy  for  the 
occasion? 

MOLIERE 

It  is  a  deep  honour,  Madame,  but  at  the  mo 
ment — 


120  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Can  a  moment  alter  your  loyalty  to  France? 
We  will  do  the  play  at  Chambord  in  the  woods. 
We  will  deck  the  autumn  with  flowers.  Cartloads 
will  be  sent  up  from  the  South,  cartloads  of  roses. 

MOLIERE 
More  serious  matters — 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

I  will  honour  the  pageant  and  your  play — your 
play,  Moliere.  [She  is  looking  at  him  curiously.] 
Write  for  me  the  part  of  the  nymph  Iris.  I  will 
play  it  in  a  gilded  veil  over  a  robe  of  gold.  That 
will  be  charming.  Will  it  not?  Perhaps  the  King 
himself  will  dance.  Write  me  some  lovely  lines 
as  Iris  so  that  I,  de  Montespan,  will  do  justice  to 
Moliere. 

MOLIERE 

The  compliment  is  indeed  a  great  one  but  at  the 
moment,  alas,  I  am  so  deep  in  work  on  my  newest 
play,  Madame.  It  is  going  well.  You  will  un 
derstand.  I  do  not  wish  to  check  the  mood.  I 
give  my  life  to  the  characters  I  am  creating.  I 
am  part  of  my  comedy.  The  play  will  be,  perhaps 
the  greatest  of  my  career.  May  I  hope  it  will  be 
an  honour  to  France  and  to  the  King?  Madame, 
because  of  my  comedy  I  must  refuse  you. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  121 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Is  it  the  manuscript  I  saw  this  morning  in  which 
the  laughter  hides  the  tears? 

MOLIERE 

Yes,  Madame,  my  comedy  in  which  a  lover  does 
battle  with  his  doubts. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[And  again  she  looks  at  him.} 
I   know.     I  know.     Love  lies  ever  poised  be 
twixt  despair  and  ecstasy.      [A  moment's  pause.] 
And  your  wife?     She  is  so  exquisite.     She  is  well, 
I  hope. 

MOLIERE 

Well,   Madame,  but  weary  from   the  plays  at 
court. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

I'm  sorry  you  cannot  do  this  ballet,  Moliere. 
It  would  greatly  please  the  King. 

MOLIERE 

[Slowly  for  there  is  something  in  her  tone 
which  he  instinctively  mistrusts.] 
I  have  too  often  stolen  from  my  mind's  treasury 
to  coin  these  baubles  for  the  pleasure  of  His  Maj 
esty.     An  artist,  Madame,  owes  deep  debts  to  what 
is  deepest  in  him.     We  are  but  instruments  and  the 


122  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

breath  of  creation  uses  us  at  its  will.  We  must  be 
ever  ready  for  its  profoundest  use.  The  King  will 
understand.  Have  I  not  often  pleased  His  Maj 
esty? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Often.  But  have  you  ever  sought  to  please  me, 
me,  Frangoise  de  Montespan?  I  am  but  a  woman, 
Moliere;  is  chivalry  then  dead  at  Court? 

MOLIERE 

[With  a  bow.] 

Chivalry  is  always  waiting  for  the  bidding  of  a 
woman's  smile. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[With  a  tinge  of  sarcasm.] 
You  talk  like  a  courtier. 

MOLIERE 

[Suddenly  direct.] 

If  I  do  so,  Madame,  it  is  because  I  wonder  if  you 
would  tolerate  me  if  I  answered  as  a  man. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Try  me,  Moliere.  Less  elegance  may  drive 
nearer  to  the  truth. 

MOLIERE 

[Changing  his  tone.] 
Madame,  I  am  an  actor. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  123 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Laughingly.] 
So  I've  heard,  Moliere. 

MOLIERE 

Perhaps  also  something  of  a  judge  of  others'  act 
ing. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[Avoiding  the  imputation.] 

Yes,   you  have  trained  your  wife  most  excel 
lently. 

MOLIERE 

[For  there  is  something  in  her  tone  that  ar 
rests  him.] 
What  do  you  mean? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Just  that.     What  did  you  think  I  meant? 

[A  pause.    They  are  looking  at  each  other.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Why  do  you  hesitate?     Go  on.     Does  the  great 
Moliere  then  lack  the  word? 

MOLIERE 
Not  the  word,  Madame,  but  the  courage. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Then  take  me  for  your  example,  my  comedian. 
I  have  never  lacked  in  courage. 


124  MOLIERE  [ACT  II 

MOLIERE 

That  I  can  believe,  Madame. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Smiling.] 

Profit  by  me  then. 

MOLIERE 

I  do.  I  do.  But  still  I  lack  the  bravery  to  say 
what  lies  nearest  to  my  mind. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Ah,  there's  where  we  differ,  we  women  and  you 
men.  You  have  the  strength  to  hesitate,  we  women 
but  the  weakness  to  say  all. 

MOLIERE 

It's  a  brave  frailty,  Madame,  when  discretion 
guides  it.  A  woman's  weakness  is  often  stronger 
than  our  strength.  Shall  I  speak  plainly? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Of  course;  what  is  it? 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  I  think  this  play  that  you  would  have 
me  write  is  but  a  pretext  for  some  other  matter. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Be  careful.  [Then  controlling  herself.]  What 
do  you  mean,  Moliere? 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  125 

MOLIERE 

You  said  that  you  would  have  me  say  it  all. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

What  is  the  all  then? 

MOLIERE 

I  do  not  know,  and  that's  what  troubles  me.  I  do 
not  like  uncertainties.  Round  about  has  ever  been 
for  me  too  round  about.  I  think  there  is  a  lie  lurk 
ing  between  our  minds,  Madame. 

MME.  DE  MOXTESPAN 

You  dare — no,  no,  go  on.  I  like  you  best  when 
you  are  crudest. 

MOLIERE 

[Getting  up.] 
Shall  I  leave  you,  Madame? 

MME.  DE  MOXTESPAN 

No,  stay;  I'm  hungry  for  untinselled  honesty. 
What  is  this  lie  you  think  that  lurks  between  us? 

MOLIERE 

I  do  not  know,  but  it  makes  our  faces  dim  and 
what  is  uglier,  our  hearts  ignoble.  Shall  we  erase 
this  clouding  smudge  with  truth?  The  play's  a 
pretext,  is  it  not? 


126  MOLIERE  [Aer  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Slowly.] 
Perhaps,  Moliere. 

MOLIERE 
Madame,  I  thought  so. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
And  if  it  is,  what  do  you  think  it  hides? 

MOLIERE 

I  do  not  know.  The  Court's  too  crowded  with 
intrigue.  Is  there  some  one  you  would  have  me 
slay  with  verses? — or  [and  he  speaks  the  rest  very 
slowly  and  very  low]  or  maybe  kill  with  poison? 
Have  you  chosen  me  because  I  would  be  least  sus 
pected?  Is  it  thus  you  would  test  my  allegiance? 
Has  Mme.  La  Valliere  returned  to  Paris?  Or  is  the 
Queen's  new  court  lady  perhaps  too  beautiful? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Moliere,  you  dare — 

MOLIERE 

I  am  a  dramatist,  Madame.  You  must  forgive 
me  if  at  times  I  think  too  vividly.  If  my  mind's 
too  swift  retard  me  but  I  think  a  man's  must  travel 
quickly  to  outmatch  a  woman's. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  127 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[And  her  voice  is  strange.] 
A  word  may  be  more  wounding  than  a  rapier. 

MOLIERE 
[Parrying.] 

A  wish  may  be  more  likely  than  its  deed.  [He 
is  at  the  door.]  May  I  go? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Springing  up.] 
No,  stay  a  moment,  Moliere. 

MOLIERE 

It  is  a  waste  of  words,  Madame,  to  hint  to  me 
that  at  Court  death  silences  an  imagination  that  is 
over  eager.  I  know  the  neighbourhood  of  kings 
is  dangerous.  But  you  called  me  in.  If  in  my 
haste  I  have  overstepped  I  am  ready  to  pay,  if 
needs  be,  with  my  life.  Death's  but  a  little  door 
opening  on  great  spaces.  We  dp  not  know,  Ma 
dame,  but  fate  whispers  they  are  free.  Shall  I 
tell  the  King  myself  that  I  have  wounded  you? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Slowly.] 

There  is  no  fear  of  death,  Moliere. 

MOLIERE 
Have  I  misjudged  you  then?     It  is  not  death? 


128  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Not  death  but  something  that's  more  terrible; 
come  closer  to  me. 

MOLIERE 
What  is  it,  Madame? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Come  closer.  Something  more  terrible  than 
death,  more  exquisite  than  life, — desire!  Now  do 
you  understand?  [And  her  voice  is  trembling.] 
I  love  you,  I,  Frangoise  de  Montespan,  Mistress  of 
the  King  of  France;  I  love  you.  [Her  voice 
breaks.]  I  love  you, — the  player  of  the  King. 
Have  pity  on  me. 

MOLIERE 

This  is  a  trick  or  some  sudden  madness.  Is 
Lulli  waiting  with  a  sword  beyond  the  corridor? 
I  have  not  wronged  you.  Why  do  you  wish  to 
break  me? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

You  have  wronged  me  with  your  pride,  Moliere. 
I  have  shown  you  favour  and  you  have  repaid  me 
with  respect.  I  have  been  thirsty  and  you  have 
given  me  wit  to  drink.  I  have  looked  at  you  with 
longing  and  you  have  turned  away  to  listen  to  the 
low  laughter  of  the  crowd. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  129 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  I  didn't  know. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Now  I  have  told  you.  Now  you  know.  Is  it 
too  late,  too  soon? 

MOLIERE 

Neither  too  late  nor  too  soon  but  too  rash.  I  am 
the  servant  of  the  King,  Madame,  and  even  were  I 
not  you  are  the  Mistress  of  my  friend. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

What  am  I  to  hope  for? 

MOLIERE 

Reason,  Madame;  this  is  but  a  mad  caprice.  I 
think  later  you  would  hate  me  were  I  to  forget  I 
were  more  a  lover  and  less  a  man. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Then  you  do  not  think  me  beautiful? 

MOLIERE 

I  do,  Madame,  too  beautiful  to  be  without  your 
ladies.  Where  are  they? 


130  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

V 

I  have  sent  them  all  away.  [She  takes  a  step 
nearer  to  him  and  suddenly  tears  open  her  dress 
at  her  bosom.]  See  how  my  heart  lifts  in  my  throat 
to  go  out  to  you. 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  we  are  but  human.  Let  us  be  afraid 
of  what  the  gods  are  doing.  Look,  the  wind  from 
your  garden  is  blowing  out  the  candles.  Let  not 
the  wind  of  your  passion  blow  out  the  light  in  our 
souls. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Swiftly.] 

Let  it  blow.  I  am  less  guarded  than  you,  Mo- 
liere.  I  think  this  moment  matters  more  than  that 
to  come.  I  have  ever  been  mistress  of  the  moment. 

MOLIERE 

It  is  because  of  that  that  you  are  mistress  of  the 
King. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Ever  since  my  childhood. 

MOLIERE 

I  thought  fate  broke  the  human  heart  when  it  was 
too  imperious. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  131 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Before  mine  breaks  it  will  answer  to  my  will. 
It  has  been  my  servant  all  these  years.  When  I 
was  a  little  girl  I  had  a  garden  and  I  used  to  think 
which  flower  I  would  most  be  like.  Not  of  the 
simpler  sort  that  hid  their  quiet  beauty  in  the  shad 
ows, — no,  I  took  the  regal,  purple  iris  for  my  sym 
bol.  [And  she  takes  one  from  the  golden  vase.] 
I  was  but  eight  years  old,  Moliere,  but  even  then  I 
knew  that  I  would  be  like  the  iris.  There  was 
something  so  beautiful,  so  strangely  rich  in  its 
deep  lavender  lifting  its  head  above  the  humbler 
flowers. 

MOLIERE 

I  understand,  Madame;  they  say  La  Valliere 
wore  pale  violets  in  her  bosom. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Anger  mounting  in  her  eyes.] 
Are  you  more  loyal  to  dead  violets  then? 

[And  she  has  flung  the  iris  flower  to  the 
floor.} 

MOLIERE 

I'm  sorry  for  the  lady.  They  say  she  loved  the 
King. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Why  waste  your  sorrow?  She  has  found  eternal 
love  in  God.  I  envv  her. 


132  MOLIERE  [ACT  II 

MOLIERE 

And  you,  Madame? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

I  am  not  ready  yet  for  those  eternities.  Come 
closer  to  me.  What,  why  do  you  draw  back? 

MOLIERE 
Can't  you  see  that  some  one  stands  between  us? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Who,  the  King?  What?  Do  you  not  know  that 
each  new  lady  at  the  Court  is  his  whim's  possibility? 
Why  shouldn't  I  seek  refuge  when  he  leaves  me 
lonely  and  when  my  heart  calls?  Do  you  not  hear 
it,  Moliere?  It  is  speaking  to  you  so  madly,  so 
terribly  that  I've  forgot  the  King.  Can  you  not 
forget  His  Majesty  for  this  one  sovereign  moment? 

MOLIERE 
It  is  not  the  King. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Who  then?     Who  then? 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  my  wife.     It  is  her  shadow  that  lies 
between  us. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  133 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Shadows  are  but  fragile  things,  Moliere. 

MOLIERE 

This  has  the  substance  of  our  love,  a  love  so 
deeply  rooted  in  our  being,  Madame,  that  no  sud 
den,  poignant  moment  can  shatter  it.  We  are  safe 
in  our  love,  Madame.  It  is  this  love  that  keeps  us 
loyal;  it  is  the  beat  of  our  hearts,  the  sight  of  our 
eyes,  the  reason  of  our  life. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Her    eyes    closed,    her    hand    upon    her 
bosom.] 

For  such  a  love — for  such  a  love —  Moliere, 
do  you  not  pity  me? 

MOLIERE 

I  do,  and  now  good  evening.  See  the  twilight 
has  fallen  and  the  room  grows  dark.  Shall  I  not 
have  some  one  light  more  candles? 

[His  hand  reaches  for  the  door.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Moliere !     Moliere ! 

MOLIERE 
Madame? 


134  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

You're  right.  I've  been  over  rash.  This  inci 
dent — if  the  King  should  hear. 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  I  do  beseech  you,  you  are  safe  and 
now  good  evening. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

No,  stay  a  moment.  There  is  something  I  would 
do,  for  I  think  there  is  something  that  you  should 
know. 

MOLIERE 

That  will  be  true  until  the  end  of  time.  Knowl 
edge  is  always  just  beyond  us  and  therein  lies  the 
comedy  of  humanity. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Is  it  not  braver  to  know  all,  Moliere? 

MOLIERE 

Braver,  but  less  likely — else  man  were  God. 
That  makes  the  comedy  humane.  We  are  less  than 
gods,  Madame. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Significantly.  ] 
Is  it  not  God-like  to  know  all  and  to  survive? 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  135 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  I  hope  you  will.  See,  the  mood  is 
over. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

No,  you  misjudge  me;  I  forget  myself. 

MOLIERE 
That  is  the  great  illusion.     Whoever  does? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[As  he  turns  away.] 
Now  it  is  my  turn  to  pity  you. 

MOLIERE 

[Turning  back.] 

Then  we  are  on  safer  ground  for  pity  is  control 
lable.  [Then  a  little  bitterly.]  Thanks,  but  I'd 
rather  have  you  laugh  at  me  than  pity  me. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

One  love  is  dangerous,  Moliere.  It  is  not  wise 
to  worship  at  one  shrine. 

MOLIERE 
[At  a  loss.] 

Madame — 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
There  are  saints  who  sin. 


136  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

MOLIERE 

In  that  truth  lies  man's  brotherhood.  What's  at 
the  end  of  your  preamble? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

My  hesitancy. 

MOLIERE 

Go  on;  I  thought  you  never  lacked  in  courage. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

I  do  when  it's  the  courage  to  wound  another. 
See,  now  the  last  candle  has  gone  out  and  we  are 
indeed  in  shadow. 

MOLIERE 
Is  it  too  dark? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

But  that  is  easily  altered.  By  now  the  moon  is 
up. 

[And  she  rushes  over  to  the  window  over 
her  little  garden  and  pulls  back  the  curtain 
and  as  she  does  so  the  room  is  flooded  with 
moonlight.  ] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Now  we  shall  see. 

MOLIERE 
By  moonlight  all  is  beautiful.     The  moon's  the 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  137 

living  lamp  lighting  with  fantastic  beauty  the  thea 
tre  of  the  world.  Some  day  I  must  play  a  comedy 
by  moonshine. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

It  would  become  your  wife  for  it's  the  light  of 
love. 

MOLIERE 
[Quickly.] 
What  do  you  mean? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Only  what  your  heart  tells  you  and  you  won't 
believe.     Are  you  sure  your  wife  is  faithful? 

MOLIERE 

[Swiftly  for  the  thrust  has  gone  home.] 
As  sure  as  that  you're  not,  Madame. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Bridling.] 

Go  on;  I  think  I  like  you  best  when  you  are  an 
gry.     How  do  you  know  that  she  is  innocent? 

MOLIERE 
I  know  because  she  loves  me. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Then  you  have  not  heard  what  they  say  at  Court? 


138  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  would  it  be  well  for  you  to  listen  to  all 
they  say  at  Court? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

These  bitter  tongues  are  part  of  the  price  I  pay 
for  my  power  to  punish.  But  your  wife  is  not 
Mistress  of  the  King. 

MOLIERE 
No,  God  be  praised ;  she  is  but  my  wife. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
And  you  don't  doubt  her? 

MOLIERE 
Why  should  I  when  there  is  no  reason? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
And  seeing  you  have  not  wished  to  see? 

MOLIERE 

I  have  looked  with  a  man's  eyes,  not  a  woman's. 
[And  she  lifts  her  eyes  to  him  and  her  lips 
are  curled.] 

MOLIERE 
Armande  is  hungry  for  adulation,  that  is  all. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
They  say  she  is  very  free. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  139 

MOLIERE 

I  have  given  her  freedom  but  she  has  never 
abused  it.  Of  that  there  is  no  doubt  lurking  in  my 
mind. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
And  these  rumours? 

MOLIERE 

At  court  a  woman's  beauty  is  ever  sweet  food 
for  too  many  hungry,  dirty  tongues.  This  gossip 
is  all  noisy  emptiness.  I  know;  I  know.  I  have 
loved  her  too  deeply  to  have  listened.  No,  she  is 
innocent.  There  is  something  almost  terrible  in 
my  love  for  her.  When  I  love  her  thus  is  she  not 
safe?  I  have  surrounded  her  with  my  adoration. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Slowly.] 

And  what  of  de  Lauzun? 

MOLIERE 

[His  voice  hot  with  rage.] 
That  is  a  lie,  Madame,  a  lie. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Perhaps  you're  right.  Who  knows?  Who 
knows?  But  you're  heated,  Moliere.  The  eve 
ning  air  is  cool  that  blows  up  from  my  garden. 


140  MOLIERE  [ACT  II 

Let's  forget  these  whisperings  and  your  wife. 
[Then  assuming  a  lighter  tone.]  Come  here  and 
I  will  show  you  a  view  of  Eden. 

[She  has  gone  over  to  the  window.] 

MOLIERE 

[At  a  loss  to  solve  the  shifting  of  her  mood.] 
What,  Eden  here  in  Paris? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Yes,  for  Eden  is  wherever  love  dwells.  There  is 
a  statue  of  Cupid  below  among  the  trees.  Look; 
he  seems  to  smile  when  the  moon  is  on  his  face. 
Come,  see.  And  beyond  the  garden  are  vistas, — 
far,  long  vistas.  Why  are  distances  so  beautiful? 
Come  look  and  we  will  both  forget  the  present  in 
what  lies  beyond,  there  where  night  becomes  the 
earth  and  earth  the  night. 

[Instinctively  he  draws  nearer  to  the  win 
dow.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Look,  the  moon  is  up  and  hangs  like  a  great  gold 
lantern  in  the  trees.  [She  is  leaning  forward.] 
Listen,  that  is  the  sound  of  voices  murmuring. 
Why,  see,  there  are  two  lovers  below  there  in  the 
garden.  Look,  Moliere,  there  beneath  the  statue 
of  Cupid,  that  is  for  ever  aiming  his  arrows  at  the 
heart  of  the  world.  Look  closer;  are  they  not 
kissing?  The  girl  is  lovely,  is  she  not,  Moliere? 
[His  hand  is  trembling  as  he  clutches  the  curtain.] 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  141 

Look  closer.  And  he — he —  [Her  voice  is 
lifted.]  See,  they  have  heard  us.  Why  do  they 
flee  away  like  that?  Look  closer,  closer.  Have 
we  not  seen  them  both  before? 

[And  suddenly  he  flings  the  curtain  across 
the  window  and  springs  back  into  the  room.] 

MOLIERE 

I  have  seen  too  much.  I  have  seen  the  end  of 
my  life. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[Coming  over  to  him,  her  voice  heavy  with 
sorrow.] 
You  have  my  pity,  Jean;  you  have  my  pity. 

MOLIERE 

[His  heart  on  fire.] 

That  is  your  garden.  No  one  enters  there  save 
at  your  command.  This  is  a  trick, — a  trick,  Ma 
dame. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
You  have  my  pity  for  now  you  know. 

[Her  arms  are  stretched  out  to  him.  Sud 
denly  he  catches  her  by  the  wrist  and  flings 
her  from  him  so  violently  that  she  stumbles 
to  the  floor.] 

MOLIERE 

[Towering  over  her.] 
I  have  asked  neither  your  pity  nor  this  proof. 


142  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

God  forgive  you,  Madame.     Why  have  you  done 
this? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Cowering  at  his  feet.] 
Because  I  love  you. 

MOLIERE 

Love?  The  word  sounds  loathsome  when  you 
speak  it.  That  is  the  way  a  woman  loves,  per 
haps,  but  not  a  man. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Sooner  or  later  you  would  have  found  out  every 
thing.  It  is  thus  too  cheaply  that  she  sells  her 
faith.  It  is  because  I  love  you  that  I  have  done 
this.  [She  crawls  over  to  him.]  I  will  be  more 

honest. 

\ 

MOLIERE 
You!     You! 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

See,  I  give  myself  to  you.  I,  Frangoise  de  Mon- 
tespan,  I  give  myself  to  you.  Take  me,  take  me. 
[She  is  on  her  knees  before  him.]  If  your  heart 
is  broken  I  will  give  you  strength.  Bend  over;  for 
the  love  of  God,  bend  over.  My  lips  are  wet  with 
the  dew  of  oblivion.  Drink,  drink.  Shut  out  the 
light  in  my  eyes  with  your  kisses.  It  is  in  such  a 
moment  that  I  would  die. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  143 

[She  clings  to  him  but  with  a  gesture  of  ab 
horrence  he  struggles  from  her] . 

MOLIERE 

Get  up,  Madame;  I  would  not  have  you  cringe 
before  me. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Have  pity  on  me. 

MOLIERE 

Pity!  No,  that's  another  snare.  I'm  not  so 
easily  beaten.  Do  not  forget,  Madame,  I've  looked 
into  your  garden  but  I'm  still  Moliere. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

It  was  my  will  to  break  your  spirit  but  you  have 
broken  mine.  May  Christ  forgive  me.  See,  I'm  a 
shattered  bauble  in  your  hands. 

MOLIERE 

Get  up.  Remember  you  are  Mistress  of  the 
King;  you  should  not  bend  to  any  man. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

I  have  offered  myself  to  you  and  you  do  not  take 
me.  [Her  hands  are  clenched.]  Look,  I  am  pray 
ing  to  you  as  though  to  God.  Just  for  this  hour, 
Jean,  this  one  small  hour,  and  then  a  lifetime  to 
forget  or  to  remember. 


144  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

MOLIERE 

[Half  scorn  and  half  command.] 
Get  up.     This  is  no  brothel  but  the  palace  of 
the  King. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Weakly.] 

You  do  not  love  me  then? 

MOLIERE 

[And  his  voice  is  low.] 

Now  God  pity  me  for  my  love  is  below  there  in 
your  garden. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Suddenly  drawing  back  from  him.] 
I  have  offered  you  my  love.  [And  then  there  is 
something  terrible  in  her  eyes.]  And  you  have 
turned  away  from  me.  What  are  you  that  you 
dare  do  this?  Do  you  think  my  hate  will  be  more 
welcome? 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  your  hate  is  nothing.  It's  the  hurt. 
[And  he  glances  toward  the  window.]  The  hurt. 
And  now  good-night. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Moliere!     Moliere! 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  145 

MOLIERE 

[At  the  door.     He  has  half  opened  it.] 
Madame,  good-night. 

[Her  arms  are  stretched  out  to  him.  She 
is  going  towards  him.  Suddenly  there  is  a 
sound.  It  is  a  key  turning  in  the  little  door 
that  leads  to  the  apartments  of  the  King.} 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Swiftly.] 

Stay,  it's  Louis.  He's  come  back.  He's  heard 
our  voices.  If  you  go  now  he'll  suspect.  Stay. 
Give  me  a  moment.  Wait,  wait,  a  word  and  I  will 
find  a  way  that  will  explain  it. 

[And  the  little  door  opens  and  the  King  is 
in  the  room.] 

Louis 

Frangoise,  Lulli  has  just  sent  a  messenger,  crav 
ing  me  to  turn  back,  saying  that  you  were  ill  and 
wanted  me. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Her  eyes  are  fraught  with  terror,  but  her 
lips  smile  as  she  greets  him.] 
I  do,  Louis,  always,  and  that  means  now. 

Louis 

Well,  here  I  am.     You're  better? 


146  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Taking  a  step  towards  him.] 
Much,  Louis,  now  that  you  have  come. 

[As  the  King  turns  to  seat  himself  he  sees 
some  one  standing  over  by  the  door.] 

Louis 

Who's  that? 

MOLIERE 

[Stepping  out  into  the  room.] 
It's  I,  Your  Majesty. 

Louis 

What,  you,  Moliere?  I  thought  I  heard  some 
voices.  [He  looks  about  him  and  then  turns  to 
MME.  DE  MONTESPAN,  his  words  edged  with  the 
question.]  And  are  you  quite  alone? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Quickly.] 

We  were  planning  a  surprise,  Your  Majesty, 
something  that's  a  secret  until  your  birthday. 

Louis 

[Significantly.] 

Then  I've  come  too  soon.  Is  it  very  secret, 
Frangoise? 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  147 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Attempting  to  force  the  echo  of  a  laugh 
into  her  voice.] 
Deeper  than  the  Seine,  Sire. 

Louis 

[Slowly, — glancing  at  DE  MONTESPAN.] 
I  was  starting  on  my  way  to  hunt  at  Fontaine- 
bleau. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Yes,  Louis,  and  now  by  God's  grace  you  have 
come  back. 

Louis 

God's    grace,    Madame?     Sometimes    Heaven's 
works  are  unexpected  then? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

What,  Louis? 

Louis 

[With  a  quick  look  from  one  to  the  other.] 
So!     Whilst  I  would  hunt  at  Fontainebleau  do 
they  lay  traps  in  Paris  here?     It  does  not  please 
me  to  find  you  thus  alone. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Fencing  for  a  moment's  thought.'] 
You're  jesting,  Louis. 


148  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

[She  seats  herself,  attempting  again  to 
force  a  laugh.] 

Louis 

No,  Frangoise;  I  save  my  jests  for  war  and  the 
assemblies.  I  never  was  in  deeper  earnest. 
Where  are  your  ladies? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Swiftly  to  avoid  the  answer.] 
Sire,  I  was  beseeching  him  to  write  a  ballet  for 
your  birthday. 

Louis 

Then  I'm  indeed  too  soon.  Perhaps  to  the  re 
gret  of  all  of  us,  I  wasn't  born  until  Tuesday. 
Where  are  your  ladies  and  the  lights?  Come,  let's 
have  more  lights. 

[And  he  goes  to  the  door  and  calls  down 
the  passage.] 

Louis 

Lights!     Lights! 

[And  then  he  turns  to  DE  MONTESPAN  and 
the  intonation  of  his  voice  is  like  one  that 
commands  the  moment  when  a  whip  is  lifted.] 

Louis 

Words  can  seem  what  they  sound  like  when  the 
face  is  hidden. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  149 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Sire- 
Louis 

A  moment,  by  your  leave.  [And  he  takes  a  step 
nearer  to  MOLIERE.]  This  is  a  hidden  talent,  Sir, 
that  I  hadn't  counted  on.  Do  you  sometimes  play 
then  in  the  dark? 

[DE  MONTESPAN  springs  up.] 

MOLIERE 

[Seeing  the  agony  in  her  eyes.] 
Sire,  the  lady  pleaded  but  I  refused. 

[She  has  taken  a  step  nearer  to  him.] 

Louis 

[Ironically.] 

A  lady  pleaded  and  you  turned  away?  I 
thought  I  was  the  king  of  gentlemen. 

MOLIERE 

I  denied  myself  the  honour  of  pleasing  Your 
Majesty  with  this  ballet  for  your  birthday,  for  at 
the  moment  I  am  at  white  heat  with  my  new  com 
edy. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Yes,  his  muse  was  more  importunate  than  the 
pleasure  of  his  king. 

[She  has  said  this  with  an  attempted  gaiety 


150  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

but  the  KING  scents  its  insincerity.     For  where 
women  are  concerned  he  is  no  fool.] 

Louis 

We  shall  see  my  pleasure  or  maybe  something 
else  the  better  when  it's  lighter  for  here  come  the 
lackeys. 

[And  they  enter  bearing  candelabra  in 
which  are  lighted  candles.  One  is  placed  on 
the  table,  the  other  on  the  mantel  shelf.  All 
this  while  Louis  never  lifts  his  eyes  from 
MME.  DE  MONTESPAN.] 

Louis 
Madame,  you  seem  pale  tonight. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
I  am  a  little  tired. 

Louis 

Where  are  your  ladies,  then,  to  help  you  get  to 
bed? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
I  sent  them  off  with  Hercules  to  see  the  monkeys. 

Louis 
What's  that? 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  151 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

In  the  trees  at  the  far  end  of  the  Tuileries. 
[Then  fencing  for  time.]  We  had  planned  to  put 
the  lad  in  the  pageant,  Sire.  He  was  to  enter  on  a 
camel  munching  chocolates.  He  was  to  play  the 
part  of  Gluttony. 

Louis 
And  you,  Madame? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

I?—  Oh,  I  was  to  play  the  nymph  Iris  in  a 
robe  of  gold. 

Louis 

[And  his   words   are  like  the  edge  of  a 
rapier.] 

You  are  so  many  coloured  that  I  think  you'd 
play  it  well. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Still  smiling.] 
Thanks,  Louis. 

Louis 
Truth  is  more  simply  clad. 

MOLIERE 

Or  naked,  Sire,  when  it  looks  upon  its  naked  self 
in  pride  [and  then  his  eyes  meet  a  swift  glance 


152  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

from  DE  MONTESPAN  as  she  goes  over  to  the  win 
dow]  or  loathing. 

Louis 

Frangoise,  I've  never  seen  you  quite  so  beauti 
ful. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[Her  voice  soft.] 
Yes,  Louis. 

Louis 

Or  less  honest.  [A  pause.]  I  think  the  truth 
lies  smothering  somewhere  in  this  silence.  No, 
leave  the  window  open. 

MOLIERE 

[Taking  a  step  forward  but  as  he  again  sees 
the  trembling  terror  in  her  eyes  he  stops.] 
Your  Majesty— 
[A  pause] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
What's  the  matter,  Louis? 

Louis 

I  do  not  know.  You  do.  There's  too  much 
here  that's  left  unsaid. 

[She  is  looking  out  into  the  garden.] 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  153 

Louis 

Well,  then,  what  is  it? 

[Suddenly  she  wheels  around.  The  ex 
pression  in  her  face  is  changed.  Where  a 
moment  before  there  might  have  been  the 
passing  shadow  of  a  fear,  there  is  now  a  look 
of  purpose  if  not  of  triumph.] 

MME.  DE  MOXTESPAN 

Your  doubt  should  be  as  empty  as — well,  as 
empty  as  my  garden  is.  [She  has  glanced  up 
swiftly  at  MOLIERE.  Then  to  the  KING.]  If  you 
must  hear  the  truth  it  won't  be  pleasant. 

Louis 
Go  on,  go  on;  a  King  must  know  and  master  all. 

MOLIERE 
Else  he  were  less  than  king. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Louis,  you  came  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  I 
have  implored  him  but  he  wouldn't  listen.  [And 
now  as  she  looks  at  MOLIERE  her  eyes  are  half 
closed  with  hate.]  Perhaps  he'll  be  more  willing 
when  his  king  commands. 

Louis 

[Ironically.] 


154  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

I've  already  bit  at  this  ballet,  Franchise,  but  it 
won't  go  down. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
The  ballet  was  a  subterfuge. 

Louis 

[And  his  voice  is  bitter]. 

Yes,  so  I  thought.     I  am  a  diplomat  as  well  as 
king  and  therefore  used  to  lying. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

A  subterfuge  I  used  to  save  him.     Now  you  shall 
know  the  truth. 

[And  then  turning  on  MOLIERE  she  springs 
the  trap  she  has  been  resolving  and  all  the 
passion  that's  pent  up  in  her  spills  out  in  a 
burning  flood  of  words.] 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Yes,  I  sent  my  women  off  because  I  did  not  wish 
that  they  should  hear  what  I  had  to  say  to  him. 
If  that's  displeasing  to  you  I  did  it  to  stem  a  dis 
pleasure  that  will  hurt  you  more  deeply  and  nearer 
to  the  quick.  No  one  should  hear  what  I've  been 
begging  of  him  but  you  have  forced  me,  Sire. 
[And  her  eyes  are  like  two  sharp  swords  of  flame.] 
I  have  been  beseeching  your  favourite,  this  come 
dian;  I  have  been  imploring  him,  I,  the  Mistress  of 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  155 

the  King,  to  destroy  a  scandalous  play  he  has  writ 
ten  before  the  matter  reached  your  ears. 

Louis 
What  play  is  this? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
One  that  should  never  have  been  thought  of. 

Louis 

Why  not? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Because  in  this  comedy  he  has  heaped  ridicule 
upon  my  husband  and'myself. 

Louis 
[Swiftly.] 

What's  that? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

This,  your  little  actor,  has  made  merry  with  my 
soul,  Your  Majesty;  mine,  Franchise  de  Monte- 
span's.  Dare  any  man  do  that? 

MOLIERE 
Sire — 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[And  her  hand  is  lifted  to  command  his 
silence.] 


156  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

Perhaps,  Louis,  in  your  great  clemency  you 
might  have  pardoned  this — yes,  even  this — but 
your  dear  player,  grown  too  proud  and  pompous 
from  the  grace  of  your  regard,  has  gone  another 
step,  a  step  that's  too  near  treason,  Sire,  and  in  base 
disloyalty,  in  this  same  play  has  made  even  you, 
yes,  you,  Your  Majesty,  a  butt  for  the  derision  of 
the  Court. 

Louis 

[For  a  moment  towering  with  all  his  little 
might.] 
What's  that? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[And  the  words  grate  against  her  teeth.] 
He  has  used  you,  his  King,  as  a  painted  puppet 
for  his  lewd  imaginings  so  that  the  lowest  clowns  in 
France  can  hoot  at  you,  their  sovereign.  Now  do 
you  see  why  I  lied  to  save  him?  I  knew  you  held 
this  actor  dear,  but  now,  now — 

Louis 
Is  this  the  truth,  Moliere? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Why  look,  Louis,  can't  you  see  his  face  tells  all? 
[For  MOLIERE   stands  aghast.     Her  ruse 
has  been  too  sudden  in  its  turning.] 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  157 

Louis 

No,  there's  some  error  here.  Moliere  would  not 
do  that. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Ask  him,  Your  Majesty;  he'll  not  dare  deny  it. 
Lulli  had  news  of  this  at  Chambord.  After  the 
fetes  there  I  sent  for  Moliere  but  he  would  not 
come.  I  sent  for  him  to  beg  him  to  destroy  this 
comedy  because  I  knew  you  loved  him  and  because 
I've  seen  the  terrible  just  haste  of  your  displeasure 
when  anger  moves  you.  Again  this  evening  I  bade 
him  come  to  me.  Yes,  I  have  suffered  this — even 
this — for  you  and  now  I've  told  you  all  out  of  my 
love  for  you  and  my  deep  loyalty. 

[The  thrust  was  well  chosen.  She  has 
touched  the  KING  in  his  most  vulnerable  spot, 
his  vanity.] 

Louis 

Moliere,  is  this  so?  Have  you  dared  to  laugh  at 
me? 

MOLIERE 

Sire,  if  you'll  grant  me  time  I  can  explain, 
though  it's  not  easy  in  the  web  that's  spun  about  me. 

Louis 

If  you  have  done  this  I  do  not  think  that  words 
will  alter  it. 


158  MOLIERE  [Aer  II 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Some  of  the  filthy  sheets  were  read  to  Lulli. 

MOLIERE 

Ah,  Giovanni!  I  might  have  guessed  it. 
[Then  with  a  smile  that  sneers.]  Your  Majesty, 
no  man's  a  friend  at  Court  whose  foot  is  on  the 
ladder. 

[DE  MONTESPAN  is  about  to  speak  but  his 
tone  arrests  her.] 

MOLIERE 
In  life  no  woman's  true  whose  heart  is  hungry. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
Louis — Louis! 

Louis 
What's  that  to  do  with  this? 

MOLIERE 

Nothing.  [And  his  words  are  for  DE  MONTE 
SPAN  and  not  the  KING.]  Nothing  except  that  all 
things  tie  together  thus  to  drag  me  down. 

Louis 
Have  you  written  such  a  play? 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  159 

MOLIERE 

Sire,  the  matter's  but  a  jest. 

Louis 
Is  it  a  jest  to  make  laughter  of  your  King? 

MOLIERE 
Do  not  the  gods  make  laughter  of  us  all? 

Louis 

I  do  not  think  your  similes  can  make  this  fact 
more  lovely.  Come,  have  you  written  such  a  com 
edy? 

MOLIERE 

If  envious  eyes  so  read  it,  yes,  it's  written. 

Louis 

You  dare  to  be  disloyal  to  your  King? 

[DE  MONTESPAN  is  watching  him.  She 
has  gauged  correctly,  for  His  Majesty's  anger 
is  mounting  past  control.] 

MOLIERE 

Not  disloyal  to  my  King,  but  loyal  to  my  muse. 
The  play's  but  meant  for  laughter. 

Louis 

Is  no  price,  then,  too  high  to  pay  for  laughter? 


160  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

MOLIERE 

You  weigh  the  matter  with  a  weight  that's  not  its 
purpose. 

Louis 

Sir,  if  you  have  made  this  lady  seem  ridiculous, 
why,  that's  enough. 

MOLIERE 

It's  her  will  to  make  me  seem  something  baser 
still  and  that's  a  traitor  to  Your  Majesty.  My  play 
is  but  a  farce  written  in  a  moment's  merriment. 
There  may  be  reasons  though  why  there  are  others 
who  would  make  of  this  comedy  a  sudden  scaffold 
for  my  hanging.  Your  Majesty,  I  do  beseech  you, 
let's  have  done  with  this. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Sire,  the  matter  is  not  so  easily  scattered. 
You'll  be  the  jesting  stock  of  Paris  for  this  author 
has  crucified  you  upon  the  filthy  gibbet  of  his  wit. 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  and  you  would  break  me  upon  the  hid 
den  rack  of  your  desire? 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[To  Louis.] 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  161 

Forgive  this  insult  and  he'll  be  the  first  of  many 
who'll  dare  gibe  at  you. 

MOLIERE 
You  urge  a  low  intention  that  I  never  meant. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[And  the  words  bite.] 
Sire,  is  nothing  holy  to  these  witty  men? 

MOLIERE 

Madame,  is  nothing  safe  beyond  your  hate? 
[Then  to  the  KING.]  This  comedy,  Your  Majesty, 
may  mean  much  mirth  hereafter,  when  you  and  I 
and  this  too  loyal  lady  here  are  but  dry  dust  that's 
scattered  in  the  mad  whirlings  of  the  wind. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Louis,  he  has  flung  low  laughter  in  your  face 
and  you  are  less  than  King  if  you  forgive  him. 

Louis 

No,  for  it's  gone  beyond  forgiveness  and  has 
reached  command.  Moliere,  I  command  you  to 
destroy  this  comedy. 

[And  he  lifts  his  hand  as  though  to  strike 
him.] 


162  MOLIERE  [Acr  II 

MOLIERE 

[Stepping  back,  his  head  high  lifted.] 
You  command  me,  Sire? 

Louis 
Am  I  not  still  your  King? 

MOLIERE 

Yes,  to  command  me,  Sire,  but  it's  left  to  Mo- 
liere  to  obey. 

Louis 

What's  that? 

[And  he  threateningly  steps  nearer  to  him.] 

MOLIERE 

Yes,  you  have  made  of  me  a  courtier  to  obey 
you,  and  if  you  strike  me  it  would  be  my  craven 
duty  to  beg  pardon  with  a  smile.  But  now  the 
truth  breaks  in  the  dim  places  of  my  mind.  Sire, 
you  command  me  to  destroy  this  comedy.  What 
matter  if  I  do  or  do  not?  You'll  still  be  King  of 
France,  and  I,  Moliere,  tho  there  be  one  farce 
more  or  less.  The  play  is  nothing.  It's  this  com 
mand  that  matters.  For  that's  the  lash  that  makes 
me  feel  how  lowly  under  the  beatings  of  your  will 
I've  bent  to  serve  you.  What  have  I  done  at  your 
too  base  commands?  What  have  I  left  undone? 
What  godlike  biddings  have  I  left  unanswered 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  163 

to  pipe  the  paltry  pageants  of  your  Court?  Oh, 
that's  the  deep  dishonour  of  it  all, — that  I,  Moliere, 
who  in  my  plays  have  hooted  at  the  hypocrites  and 
with  my  pen  have  flayed  the  scheming  seekers,  that 
I,  Moliere,  here  at  your  pampered  Court,  to  your 
too  honeyed  orders  have  been  myself  a  liar  and  a 
slave. 

Louis 

[And  his  voice  is  the  voice  of  a  king.] 
Beware! 

MOLIERE 

[And  his  voice  is  the  voice  of  a  man  who 
greets  his  freedom.] 

A  moment,  Sire,  for  this  moment's  mine,  this 
sudden  moment  that  smites  with  blasting  truth  the 
dark  remembered  days  and  deeds  that  crowd  about 
me.  Now  I  would  go  out  upon  the  bridges  of  your 
Paris  and  shout  to  all  the  listening  crowds.  Now 
let  all  those  come  at  whom  I've  laughed  and  with 
their  pitiless  laughter  let  them  hurl  laughter  back 
at  me.  Now  I  must  drink  the  bitter  acid  that  I've 
flung  for  now  I  know  that  often,  oh,  too  often,  I've 
left  unwritten  the  deep  truth  that  moves  the  human 
spirit  to  buy  this  gilded  pleasure  of  a  King. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Yes,  of  your  King,  by  the  Divine  right  of  God. 
[And  now  she  stands  between  them.] 


164  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

MOLIERE 

Yes,  of  this  King  by  the  blind  right  of  accident, 
this  King  who  for  his  tinselled  whim  has  chained 
my  spirit.  I  am  Moliere  and  Moliere  should  know 
no  King  nor  any  rule  save  to  serve  the  world  with 
truth. 

Louis 

Moliere,  I  hold  your  destiny  here  between  my 
fingers. 

[And  he  lifts  them  as  though  to  snap  them.] 

MOLIERE 

Open  your  hand,  Sire.  My  fame  no  longer  lies 
between  your  fingers  but  in  the  heart  of  France. 
They  are  waiting  for  me,  all  my  people.  It  is  for 
them  I  will  write.  It  is  for  them  I  have  lived  and 
dreamed.  Ever  since  the  old  days  and  I,  an  hum 
ble,  an  unknown  player,  followed  the  ox-cart  with 
a  song  in  my  heart  through  the  winding  lanes  of 
Languedoc. 

Louis 

[Slowly,  for  his  sudden  anger  has  become 
something  that's  more  lasting.] 
Drink  deeply   of  your  words,   my  player,  for 
words  are  but  the  wine  of  hope  that  drugs  us. 

MOLIERE 

No,  I  am  not  drugged  on  words  but  thirsty  for 
my  freedom. 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  165 

Louis 

[And  his  voice  is  sinister.] 

Be  not  too  rash  to  cast  me  off,  my  brave  come 
dian.  See,  if  I  wish  to  I  can  break  you  as  I  break 
the  crystal  of  this  watch.  [And  as  he  speaks  he 
takes  the  little  watch  from  among  the  trinkets  that 
are  lying  on  the  dressing  table  and  splinters  the 
glass  against  its  edge.]  Look,  for  the  moment  I 
have  halted  time.  The  hour  has  stopped  just  on 
the  hour.  Perhaps  it  is  your  hour,  my  comedian. 
[And  then  bitterly,  driving  each  word  home.] 
When  I  forget  then  France  forgets. 

MOLIERE 

No,  my  people,  they  will  not  forget.  They  are 
waiting  with  shouts  to  greet  me. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

[And  now  her  smile  is  filled  with  triumph.] 
We  shall  see.     The  King  is  still  the  King. 

MOLIERE 

Yes,  we  shall  see.  [And  then  turning  on  the 
KING.]  Sire,  I  have  been  a  servile  lackey  to  your 
laughter  and  at  your  bidding  your  powdered  clown ; 
but  these  things  I  now  throw  off  for  ever,  for  now 
my  mind  shall  be  my  sovereign  and  my  unshackled 
soul,  my  king. 


166  MOLIERE  [Acx  II 

Louis 
Moliere,  remember  I  have  spoken. 

MOLIERE 

Sire,  remember  it  is  thus  I  answer  you.  I  have 
put  my  faith  in  kings;  now  I  will  give  it  back  to 
France. 

[And  thus  sacrificing  his  fame  as  an  author 
and  an  actor  and  the  future  of  his  company, 
he  rushes  from  the  palace.] 

Louis 

[After  a  moment's  silence,  for  in  MOLIERE'S 
voice  far  off  has  sounded  the  dim  echo  of  the 
fall  of  kings. ~\ 
That  fool  has  been  too  noisy  with  his  words. 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 

Sire,  what  matter,  for  if  I  know  you,  and  I  think 
I  do,  your  player  has  outrun  his  breath.  Now  may 
I  close  the  window?  For  at  last  the  twilight's 
fallen  and  the  night  is  growing  damp. 

[Then  as  she  stands  in  the  window  niche.] 

Louis 

Frangoise,  now  I  know  you  never  were  so  beau 
tiful.     Look,  the  moonlight's  all  about  you. 
[And  it  plays  about  her  hair.] 


ACT  II]  MOLIERE  167 

MME.  DE  MONTESPAN 
[Her  voice  sweet  and  low  with  languor  as 
she  comes  over  to  him.] 

Louis,  my  lover,  come  let's  see  how  fair  my  bed 
of  silver  is,  for  look;  the  moon  that  makes  me  beau 
tiful  has  spread  its  hand  of  silver  on  the  sheets. 


[AND  THE  CURTAIN  FALLS] 


ACT  III 


THE  CHARACTERS  IN  ACT  III  ARE 

CLAUDE  CHAPELLE,  a  life-long  friend  of  Moliere. 

LA  FONTAINE. 

A  DOCTOR. 

LA  FOREST. 

COLINGE. 

MOLIERE. 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE. 

ANOTHER  ACTRESS. 

ARMANDE. 

SEVERAL  ACTORS  in  the  Fantastic  Costumes  of  the 

Ballet. 

THE  KING'S  CHAMBERLAIN 

and 
THE  KING. 

The  Scene  is  the  same  as  Act  I. 

The  time  of  the  action  of  Act  III  is  before,  dur 
ing,  and  after  the  fourth  performance  of  Mo- 
LIERE'S  "Imaginary  Invalid,"  February  seven 
teenth,  1673. 


ACT  III 

During  Act  III  the  curtain  is  lowered  to  denote  the 
passing  of  two  hours9  time. 

The  scene  is  the  same  as  Act  I,  MOLIERE'S  Study  at 
the  Palais  Royal.  It  is  four  o'clock  of  a  win 
ter  s  afternoon  and  through  the  window  is  seen 
the  view  of  the  nearby  houses  and  the  falling 
snow.  A  fire  is  lit  in  the  deep  fireplace  and 
in  a  corner  is  a  brazier.  Though  there  has 
been  little  actual  change  in  the  room  there 
should  be  suggested  in  the  first  episode  an  at 
mosphere  of  quiet  and  a  hint  of  sadness  in 
contrast  to  the  crowded  and  more  brilliant 
rhythm  of  Act  I. 

The  second  episode  which  is  played  during  and 
after  the  fourth  performance  of  the  "Imag 
inary  Invalid"  should  be  pitched  with  a  sense 
of  the  foreboding  of  the  end  and  throughout 
there  should  be  suggested  the  silent  stir  which 
pervades  the  back  stage  of  a  theatre  during 
a  performance.  A  view  of  the  play  that  is 
going  on  can  be  seen  by  the  actors  through  the 
door  in  the  left  wall  of  MOLIERE'S  study. 

When  the  curtain  lifts  on  the  first  episode,  LA  FON- 

171 


172  MOLIERE  [Aer  III 

TAINE,  CHAPELLE,  a  life-long  friend  of  Mo- 
LIERE'S,  and  the  DOCTOR  are  seated  at  the 
Master9 s  table  and  are  drinking  the  Master's 
wine.  Near  the  fireplace  sits  LA  FOREST.  In 
her  lap  is  a  costume  she  is  mending.  Close  to 
her  is  COLINGE,  who  for  the  early  part  of  the 
scene  is  silent.  When  LA  FOREST  is  up  and 
about  he  moves  nearer  to  the  fire  to  warm  his 
hands. 

CHAPELLE   is  standing  and  with  lifted  glass   is 
singing. 

CHAPELLE 
Tra-la-la-la ! 

k    ; 

LA  FONTAINE 

Miraculous!  Though  the  intention  is  that  of  a 
nightingale  the  voice  is  that  of  an  angry  bull.  How 
do  you  like  it,  Doctor? 

THE  DOCTOR 
I  know  so  little  about  music. 

LA  FONTAINE 

In  such  matters  ignorance  is  best,  for  music  is  the 
divine  riddle  whose  answer  is  itself.  [Then  to 
CHAPELLE.]  Another  song,  Claude. 

CHAPELLE 
Tra-la-la ! 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  173 

LA  FOREST 

[Rushing  over  to  him.] 

For  the  love  of  God,  if  you're  the  nightingale, 
be  silent.  He's  asleep  in  there,  resting  before  the 
play. 

[And  she  points  to  MOLIERE'S   dressing- 
room.] 

CHAPELLE 

My  friend,  the  entire  troupe  might  be  resting  for 
all  the  impression  Moliere's  latest  play  has  made 
on  Paris.  [But  at  the  moment  song  seems  to  be 
the  most  pressing  thing  and  so  he  continues.']  Tra- 
la-la! 

LA  FOREST 

If  your  throat's  so  parched  that  you  must  be 
making  sounds  like  that,  I'll  fetch  another  bottle. 
I'd  rather  have  you  drunk  than  singing. 

LA  FONTAINE 

Why  not  both?  If  not  drunk  on  wisdom,  then 
on  wine.  Life  is  the  merry-go-round  of  disillu 
sion. 

LA  FOREST 
[To  LA  FONTAINE.] 

Monsieur,  don't  you  think  that  maybe  there's  talk 
enough  in  the  world  already? 

CHAPELLE 
Tra-la-la-la! 


174  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

LA  FOREST 
Keep  quiet,  all  of  you. 

[She  goes  over  to  MOLIERE'S  door.] 

CHAPELLE 

It  might  be  better  if  he  awoke  and  came  and 
drank  with  us.  Then  he  might  forget  Armande. 
It's  six  months  since  she  left  him,  isn't  it? 

LA  FOREST 

Be  still,  for  the  love  of  God.  No  one  dare  speak 
her  name. 

LA  FONTAINE 

Then  let  us  drink  to  silence.  Fill  the  cup,  La 
Forest;  we  will  drink  our  dreams.  It  is  only  when 
we  close  our  eyes  that  we  see  everything. 

LA  FOREST 
[Back  at  the  table.] 

What  are  we  to  do?  He's  for  ever  making 
speeches. 

LA  FONTAINE 

Is  there  still  another  bottle? 

LA  FOREST 

You  know  the  master  has  never  been  a  saver 
when  it  comes  to  friends. 

[She  goes  over  to  the  cupboard;  the  DOC 
TOR  follows  her.] 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  175 

THE  DOCTOR 

None  of  you  knows  how  ill  he  is.  [CoLiNGE 
looks  up,  listening.]  If  he  plays  today  the  strain 
may  be  too  much.  I've  warned  you. 

LA  FOREST 

Shh!  What  if  he  should  hear  you?  He'll  not 
listen  to  me.  He'll  not  listen  to  any  one.  It  is 
only  when  he  is  acting  that  he  seems  to  forget  her. 

CHAPELLE 

[Obliviously  singing.] 
"The  springtime  when  the  new  rains  fall— 

LA  FONTAINE 

La  Forest,  listen;  you're  a  woman.  This  song 
has  to  do  with  love. 

LA  FOREST 
What? 

LA  FONTAINE 

Love,  the  green  season  in  the  world  and  in  the 
heart  of  man. 

LA  FOREST 

[Coming  back  to  the  table.] 
Shhh!     Keep  quiet. 

THE  DOCTOR 
[To  COLINGE.] 
Why  does  he  have  them  about  at  all? 


176  MOLIERE  [Ac/r  III 

COLINGE 

He  likes  to  sit  listening  to  their  songs.  It's  like 
in  the  old  days  when  he  was  still  the  King's  come 
dian. 

THE  DOCTOR 
How  did  he  lose  the  favour  of  the  Court? 

COLINGE 

No  one  knows.  They  say  the  Italian  Lulli  lied 
about  him. 

CHAPELLE 
[Singing.] 

"Then  in  my  heart  the  skylarks  call — " 

THE  DOCTOR 

[Over  at  the  table.] 
Gentlemen,  a  word.     Your  friend  is  very  ill. 

CHAPELLE 

Nonsense;  he's  been  like  this  before.  Now  that 
the  people  are  in  Paris  for  the  fair  the  houses  will 
be  better.  [He  drinks.]  That  makes  all  the  dif 
ference. 

LA  FOREST 

You  are  right,  M.  Claude.  When  the  people 
laugh  it's  like  new  blood  in  his  veins. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  177 

CHAPELLE 

Then  let  us  drink  to  hope  and  houses  though 
there  weren't  fifty  people  out  in  front  on  Monday. 

LA  FOREST 
That's  a  lie.     There  were  easily  seventy. 

LA  FONTAINE 

What?  Are  there  still  threescore  faithful  peo 
ple  here  in  Paris?  And  in  the  old  days  the  King's 
guard  had  to  keep  the  crowds  away. 

LA  FOREST 

Each  day  his  comedy  goes  better. 

LA  FONTAINE 

What  matter?  No  play  matters  unless  the  great 
world  sets  the  pace,  the  great  stupid  world  that 
stumbles  tipsy  along  its  road  of  stars.  More  wine, 
La  Forest.  The  Court's  forgotten  Moliere  though 
he  is  still  the  greatest  man  in  France. 

LA  FOREST 

Soon  this  "Imaginary  Invalid"  of  his  will  be 
known  everywhere. 

LA  FONTAINE 

His  "Imaginary  Invalid"!  With  what  an  un 
dreamed  whimsy  fate  has  set  the  stage,  that  he,  an 


178  MOLIERE  [ACT  III 

invalid,  in  fact,  should  play  the  clownish  victim 
of  these  pills  and  purgings.  Life — life — what  was 
I  saying — ah,  well,  no  matter.  Fill  the  glass. 

LA  FOREST 

This  is  the  last  bottle.     Soon  the  actors  will  be 
coming. 

CHAPELLE 

[  Very  lugubriously.  ] 
Woe  is  me! 

LA  FONTAINE 
What's  the  matter? 

LA  FOREST 

He's  always  like  that  when  he  isn't  empty.     In  a 
moment  he  will  want  to  die. 

CHAPELLE 
I  do.     I  do. 

LA  FOREST 
What  did  I  tell  you? 

LA  FONTAINE 
Which  way  lies  the  river? 

LA  FOREST 

What  do  you  want  with  the  river?     Isn't  he  wet 
enough? 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  179 

LA  FONTAINE 

It's  the  cleanest  way.  He  might  jump  in.  I 
don't  remember  but  I'm  sure  I  saw  the  river  some- 
wheres  this  morning. 

CHAPELLE 
Woe  is  me! 

LA  FOREST 

Stop  it,  I  tell  you.  It's  the  tenth  time  in  two 
weeks  that  you  want  to  go  to  heaven  when  your 
breath's  so  strong  that  St.  Peter  wouldn't  let  you 
pass. 

CHAPELLE 
[Sadly.] 
Is  there  still  time  for  repentance? 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Dryly.] 

Doubtless;  there  always  is — time,  if  not  repent 
ance. 

CHAPELLE  ; 

Thanks,  for  blesseder  than  the  needle's  eye  is  the 
camel  that  repents.  Now  just  one  more  drop  to 
strengthen  me  on  the  way  to  righteousness. 

LA  FOREST 
Hurry;  the  troupe  is  late  this  afternoon. 


180  MOLIERE  [Aer  III 

COLINGE 

In  the  old  days  by  this  time  there  would  already 
be  a  crowd  at  the  window. 

CHAPELLE  , 

Good-bye! 

LA  FONTAINE 

What  if  you  should  really  get  to  heaven  after  all 
with  all  the  angels  singing  out  of  key?  But  that's 
a  risk  we  all  must  run. 

CHAPELLE  p 

Farewell,  my  friends.  La  Forest,  tell  your  mas 
ter— 

MOLIERE 

[Standing  in  the  doorway  of  his  dressing- 
room.] 
What?     Your  voices  woke  me. 

[He  is  spent  and  weary.  Some  of  the  old 
assurance  and  force  have  gone  out  of  his  man 
ner,  but  still  at  moments  there  are  flashes  of 
the  ancient  power.] 

LA  FONTAINE 

You've  come  just  in  time,  Jean,  to  bid  the  falter 
ing  Claude  farewell. 

MOLIERE 

[Stepping  toward  the  door  that  leads  to  the 
street.] 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  181 

Good-bye,  both  of  you,  and  come  back  early  for 
the  play.  Half  of  the  places  are  sold  already. 

COLINGE 

More,  master;  some  ten  or  fifteen  more. 

MOLIERE 

What's  that,  Colinge?  You  have  been  in  the 
theatre  fifty  years  and  your  eye  is  still  upon  the 
box-office. 

LA  FONTAINE 

[With  mock  seriousness.] 

What  mean  such  trifles  when  Claude's  doom  is 
writ?  [For  CHAPELLE  is  unsteadily  making  for 
the  door.]  Look,  Jean;  Claude  is  on  his  way  to 
death. 

MOLIERE 

That's  true  of  all  of  us.  But  in  the  meanwhile 
is  there  no  more  wine? 

LA  FOREST 

Not  that,  Master.  He's  swilled  until  his  gills 
are  running  over  and  now  there's  nothing  left  him 
but  to  die. 

MOLIERE 
[Laughingly.] 

Why  should  he  leave  the  house  then,  for  here's 
a  doctor  waiting  to  help  him  on  the  way?  [Then 
to  the  DOCTOR.]  Good  day,  sir. 


182  MOLIERE  [ACT  III 

THE  DOCTOR 
You're  feeling  stronger? 

MOLIERE 

Well  again,  for  sleep  has  bettered  the  vile  stuff 
you  gave  me. 

CHAPELLE 
Farewell,  farewell. 

MOLIERE 
[Smiling.] 
Claude,  have  you  considered  the  matter  well? 

LA  FONTAINE 
He's  plumed  philosophy  to  all  its  bitter  dregs. 

MOLIERE 

What's  a  philosophy?  The  shadow  of  a  lie  cast 
from  the  light  of  truth.  A  help  before  and  after 
never — now. 

CHAPELLE 

The  river,  the  river! 

MOLIERE 
Well,  if  you  insist.     Good-bye. 

[And  charmingly  he  holds  out  his  hand  to 
him.] 

CHAPELLE 

[Sitting  down  at  the  table.] 
Good-bye. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  183 

[At  this  moment  two  members  of  the  troupe 
arrive.] 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 
It's  good  to  see  you  up  and  strong  again. 
MOLIERE 

Thanks.  There'll  be  a  splendid  house  in  front 
today. 

THE  SECOND  ACTRESS 

We've  inquired  at  the  window.  So  far  none  of 
the  courtiers'  seats  are  sold. 

[LA  FOREST  motions  her  to  be  quiet.] 

MOLIERE 

What  difference?  Who  wants  these  gabbing 
dandies  on  the  stage?  Don't  you  know  that  it's  the 
laughter  of  the  pit  that  matters? 

LA  FOREST 

[To  the  women.] 
Hurry  or  you'll  be  late. 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 

All  right.     All  right. 

THE  SECOND  ACTRESS 

[To  MOLIERE.] 

Sir,  I  hope  in  the  new  play  you  write  there'll  be 
a  part  for  me  and  not  only  this  bit  in  the  ballet. 


184  MOLIERE  [ACT  III 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 
What,  you?      [She  laughs.]     When  you  have 
had  my  experience  you  will  have  the  right  to  ask 
for  a  part. 

THE  SECOND  ACTRESS 

Yes,  and  when  one  is  as  beautiful  as  I,  one  may 
expect  it. 

[She  smirks  beatifically.] 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 
What's  that,  darling? 

MOLIERE 
[Smiling.] 

Ladies,  according  to  your  deserts  art  will  serve 
you. 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 
Art,  indeed ;  I'd  like  to  know  what  the  theatre  has 
to  do  with  art?      [Then  to  the  SECOND  ACTRESS.] 
Come,  darling. 

[They  start  to  go.] 

MOLIERE 

Ladies,  play  beautifully,  for  soon  all  Paris  will 
be  clamouring  for  a  sight  of  you. 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 
Thanks,  sir.      [Then  to  the  SECOND  ACTRESS.] 
You  speaking  lines,  indeed. 

[And  she  bursts  into  a  peal  of  laughter.] 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  185 

THE  SECOND  ACTRESS 

Dear,  why  don't  you  give  imitations  of  the  King's 
hyena  in  the  tumbler's  booth  on  the  bridge? 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 

You,  indeed.     Ha-ha. 
[They  exit.] 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Looking  after  them.] 
Can't  the  children  of  the  Lord  love  one  another? 

LA  FOREST 
They  do,  although  they  are  always  bickering. 

LA  FONTAINE 
No,  I  do  not  believe  it. 

MOLIERE 
Why  not? 

LA  FONTAINE 

Because  they  are  actors. 

MOLIERE 

You  do  us  actors  an  injustice.  We  may  love 
others  but  first  of  all  we  must  love  ourselves  for 
our  ego  is  our  instrument  and  it  is  only  through 
love  that  we  reach  perfection.  [  Then  to  CHAPELLE 
who  has  seated  himself  at  the  table  and  is  pouring 


186  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

out  another  glass  of  wine.]      Claude,  I  see  you're 
bent  on  going. 

CHAPELLE 

[Sadly.] 

Yes,  but  before  I  die  I'd  like  to  see  you  do  your 
Invalid  once  more. 

LA  FONTAINE 

That's  wise.  The  play's  the  wittiest  he's  writ 
ten. 

MOLIERE 
La  Forest,  do  you  hear  that? 

LA  FOREST 
Don't  believe  him;  he's  been  drinking,  too. 

MOLIERE 

Then  surely  it's  the  truth,  for  critics  lie  when 
sober.  My  comedy  is  good.  The  part  grows 
richer  as  I  play  it. 

THE  DOCTOR 

[To  MOLIERE.] 

Sir,  though  you  scoff  at  me  I  beg  you  not  to  act 
today. 

MOLIERE 

What?  You  would  have  me  disappoint  my  pub 
lic  and  my  company  and  this  gallant  gentleman  who 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  187 

has  so  nobly  decided  to  live  until  tomorrow  just  to 
see  me  do  Argan  once  again.  [ Then  to  the  others.] 
Come,  gentlemen,  I  will  go  with  you  to  the  ticket 
window.  I  too,  Colinge.  [Then  when  they  have 
reached  the  door.]  And  come  back  early,  friends, 
I  urge  you,  for  the  house  will  be  so  full  that  there 
will  be  no  room — [and  in  his  eyes  there  is  a  strange 
look]  no  room,  Claude,  even  for  this  death  that 
you  are  seeking.  [Then  to  the  DOCTOR,  pointing  to 
CLAUDE.]  Go  with  them  till  the  wrine  wrears  off. 
He  has  more  need  of  you  than  I. 

[ MOLIERE,  LA  FONTAINE,  CLAUDE  and  the 
DOCTOR  exit.] 

COLINGE 
La  Forest,  he's  worse.     I  can  see  it  in  his  face. 

LA  FOREST 
The  Doctor's  right  if  he  play— 

COLINGE 
He  will,  La  Forest,  even  though — 

LA  FOREST 

You  are  right,  Colinge.     I,  too,  know  the  mas 
ter.     Alas,  sad  times  have  come  to  all  of  us. 

COLINGE 

Sad  times,  yes.     But  these  days  are  not  all  bitter 
ness.     Sometimes  I  watch  him  sitting  there  by  the 


188  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

fire  and  a  smile  comes  into  his  face,  a  smile  like 
one  sees  on  the  faces  of  children  when  they're 
sleeping. 

LA  FOREST 
Can  we  do  nothing? 

COLINGE 

I  have  thought  for  weeks  wondering  what  is  best 
to  do. 

LA  FOREST 

He  speaks  often  of  the  old  time.  Perhaps  if  he 
would  go  to  Auteuil.  You  and  I  will  go  with  him, 
Colinge,  won't  we? 

COLINGE 

I  will  go  with  the  master  even  into  the  great 
darkness  if  he  but  hold  out  his  hand  to  me. 

LA  FOREST 

I  have  spoken  with  the  few  friends  that  remain 
loyal.  They  say  so  little  that  I  know  that  they  are 
thinking  much. 

COLINGE 
And  Armande — 

LA  FOREST 

No,  we  must  not  mention  her.  I  tried  to  little 
by  little  after  she  had  gone  but  it  seemed  as  though 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  189 

he  didn't  hear  me.     Now  no  one  ever  speaks  of 
Armande  or  of  the  King. 

COLINGE 

What  I  have  done,  La  Forest,  may  seem  madness 
to  you. 

LA  FOREST 

[Quickly.] 

Have  you  asked  Monsieur  La  Fontaine  to  beg 
His  Majesty's  forgiveness  for  Moliere? 

COLINGE 
No,  that  is  over. 

LA  FOREST 

Sometimes  I  think  it  hurts  him  that  he's  forgot 
ten  at  the  Louvre. 

COLINGE 

No,  one  evening  they  were  speaking  of  Racine 
and  the  success  of  the  company  at  the  Bourgogne 
and  when  they  were  gone  he  said,  "Colinge,  such 
little  things  as  fame  are  of  the  moment,  but  what 
is  of  the  heart  is  of  eternity."  And  though  he  did 
not  think  I  knew  it  his  hand  closed  about  the  broken 
pieces  of  a  little  fan  he  always  carries  with  him. 

LA  FOREST 
What  you  have  done — is  it  about  Armande? 


190  MOLIERE  [ACT  III 

COLINGE 

Yes,  I  have  seen  her. 

LA  FOREST 
You  have  seen  her?     Where? 

COLINGE 

She  has  heen  living  alone  at  Chartres.  I  have 
known  it  all  along.  She  wants  to  come  back  to 
him.  It  is  only  the  master  that  she  has  loved.  I 
have  been  waiting  till  he  spoke  of  her.  Waiting 
for  some  hint,  some  sign  that  I  might  tell  him. 

LA  FOREST 

Sometimes  he  mutters  her  name  when  he  is  sleep 
ing  and  then  I  must  go  out  of  the  room  lest  I  wake 
him  with  my  weeping. 

COLINGE 

Things  have  not  gone  well  with  the  great  Moliere 
but  his  pride  is  still  unbroken.  No,  he  never 
speaks  of  her,  La  Forest,  but  just  the  same,  I  think, 
that  if  only  once  he  could  clasp  her  in  his  arms 
and  know  that  she  still  loves  him  that  that  would 
be  the  last  happiness  he  could  ask  of  life. 

LA  FOREST 

[  With  a  tinge  of  anger.  ] 
No,  that  is  not  possible. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  191 

COLINGE 

Why? 

LA  FOREST 

I  will  not  speak  her  name  to  him. 

COLINGE 
Are  you  afraid? 

LA  FOREST 

[And  perhaps  for  a  moment  her  heart  is 
more  rebellious  ilwn  she  knows.] 
Of  what  his  eyes  will  say  though  his  lips  be  silent. 
We  cannot  do  that,  Colinge. 

COLINGE 
We, — not  you  perhaps,  but  I,  I  will  do  it. 

LA  FOREST 
What? 

COLINGE 
I  have  done  it.     Armande  is  coming  back. 

LA  FOREST 

[Echoing  him.] 
Armande  is  coming  back? 

COLINGE 

Word  came  from  her  this  morning.     My  son  has 
ridden  all  the  night  to  bring  it  to  me.    She's  coming 


192  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

though  she  doesn't  know  how  ill  the  master  is. 
She'll  be  here  before  the  twilight,  surely. 

LA  FOREST 

[Slowly,  as  though  to  herself.] 
Armande  is  coming  back. 

COLINGE 

If  I  have  done  wrong  the  good  God  in  heaven  will 
forgive  me  but  I  meant  my  error  to  be  right. 

LA  FOREST 
May  God  in  heaven  forgive  all  of  us,  even  her. 

COLINGE 
The  master,  La  Forest,  he  still  loves  her. 

LA  FOREST 

Yes,  Colinge,  yes.  Only  those  who  love  can 
understand  this  loving  and  they  because  they  know 
that  love  is  past  all  understanding. 

COLINGE 
So  life  has  taught  you  that? 

LA  FOREST 

I  am  a  woman  and  have  gone  the  way  of  all 
women — [then  switching  and  a  little  brusquely], 
though  I  end  my  days  in  peeling  onions.  Have  you 
time  before  the  play  to  go  to  the  pastry  cook's  and 
bring  in  some  supper  for  the  master? 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  •  193 

COLINGE 

Yes,  there  is  still  half  an  hour.  [He  is  at  the 
door  to  the  street.}  It  will  be  a  happy  feast;  wait 
and  see. 

LA  FOREST 

[Stopping  him.] 

Her  coming  back — we  must  be  careful  how  we 
go  about  it. 

COLINGE 

I  have  spoken  to  the  doctor.  It  will  be  best  after 
the  play  this  evening,  just  before  supper;  then  he 
will  tell  the  master  that  she  has  come.  We  will 
know  what  to  do,  you  and  I. 

LA  FOREST 

You  and  I.  We  are  all  that  are  left  of  the 
troupe,  Colinge,  of  the  famous  troupe  of  Moliere. 
We  are  all  that  are  left  to  love  him.  Ah,  what's 
the  matter  with  me?  Now  I  must  fix  the  soup. 

COLINGE 

Don't  forget  the  cheese. 

LA  FOREST 

[Herself  again.] 

Begone;  who  are  you  to  order  me?  Haven't  I 
been  making  it  for  twenty  years?  Don't  you  sup 
pose  I  know  how  he  wants  it? 


194  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

COLINGE 

I'll  hurry  back  and  see  that  he  sleep  a  little  be 
fore  the  play.  All  will  be  well,  La  Forest.  This 
morning  I  saw  a  look  of  gladness  in  his  eyes.  The 
master's  tired,  that  is  all.  See  that  he  sleep  a  lit 
tle  before  the  play. 

[He  is  going  out  as  MOLIERE  enters.] 

MOLIERE 
Where  are  you  going,  Colinge? 

COLINGE 
To  fetch  some  supper,  master. 

MOLIERE 

Don't  be  late,  Colinge ;  remember  we  cannot  play 
without  you. 

[Then  as  COLINGE  exits,  LA  FOREST  goes 
over  to  the  brazier  in  the  corner  and  begins 
preparing  the  soup.] 

MOLIERE 

[Looking  through  the  door  that  leads  to  the 
stage.] 
Is  everything  ready  for  the  play? 

LA  FOREST 

Yes,  master,  everything  is  ready.  Now  sit  down 
a  moment  and  I'll  bring  your  soup  to  you.  I  didn't 
want  to  wake  you  earlier.  [He  has  seated  himself 
in  his  chair  at  the  end  of  the  table,  in  front  of  the 
fireplace.]  Here,  now,  this  way. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  195 

[And   she   arranges   a  pillow   behind   his 
head.] 

MOLIERE 
Thanks.     How  good  the  soup  smells! 

LA  FOREST 
There's  Parmesan  cheese. 

MOLIERE 

Well,  let  me  have  it. 

LA  FOREST 

[Scolding  him.] 
You'll  have  to  wait  till  it's  ready. 

MOLIERE 

Of  course;  do  you  know,  La  Forest,  I've  been 
practising  bravery  all  my  life? 

LA  FOREST 

[Looking  up  quickly,  a  little  frightened.] 
For  what?     For  what? 

MOLIERE 
Just  once  to  be  brave  enough  to  disobey  you. 

LA  FOREST 

I'd  leave  you  on  the  moment  if  you  did  and 
where  would  the  great  Moliere  be  without  La  For- 


196  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

est?  'Here,  I'll  put  this  about  you.  [And  as  she 
speaks  she  takes  a  robe  from  one  of  the  chests  and 
puts  it  over  him.]  Now  you  mustn't  move. 

MOLIERE 

Pll  have  to,  just  a  little,  to  smell  the  soup.  Ah, 
how  good  it  is!  Such  must  have  been  the  odour  of 
manna  in  the  wilderness  or  of  ambrosia  on  Olym 
pus. 

LA  FOREST 
Now  you're  talking  like  Monsieur  La  Fontaine. 

MOLIERE 
What? 

LA  FOREST 

Saying  words  that  crowd  the  mouth.  Tell  me, 
master,  you  men  who  write,  do  you  listen  to  your 
self  when  you're  talking? 

MOLIERE 

[Smiling.] 
Perhaps;  I  never  thought  of  that. 

LA  FOREST 

Not  you,  master;  I  meant  Monsieur  La  Fontaine. 
His  mind  chatters  like  a  magpie's.  When  he  isn't 
talking  he's  forgetting. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  197 

MOLIERE 

He  forgets  many  things  but  not  his  loyalty  to  me. 
Life  has  been  kind  in  that,  La  Forest.  Life  has 
given  me  the  gift  of  friends  and  when  the  penny 
pipes  of  fame  are  silent  it  is  friends  that  matter 
most.  Golinge  has  not  forgotten  and  you  and  Jean, 
and  Claude — dear  Claude — 

LA  FOREST 
Master,  that  drunkard  is  a  good-for-nothing. 

MOLIERE 

Only  time  can  tell  the  good  from  the  nothing. 

LA  FOREST 

Give  him  time  and  there  won't  be  a  drop  of  red 
wine  left  in  France. 

MOLIERE 

It  is  thus  he  finds  his  peace. 

[He  is  tired  and  his  head  falls  back  against 
his  chair.] 

LA  FOREST 
Master,  won't  you  sleep  a  little  before  the  play? 

MOLIERE 

[Wearily.] 

Have  you  forgotten  the  soup? 


198  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

LA  FOREST 

It  will  be  ready  in  a  minute  now.  [She  goes 
over  to  him  and  tucks  the  robe  about  him.}  Mas 
ter,  you're  not  cold? 

MOLIERE 
No. 

LA  FOREST 

You're  feeling  better. 

MOLIERE 
Much,  much. 

LA  FOREST 

Then  God  be  praised. 

MOLIERE 

Your  voice  is  like  a  mother's.     Do  you  think  I'm 
still  a  little  boy? 

[He  has  taken  her  hand.} 

LA  FOREST 

Master,  something  in  your  heart  has  never  grown 
up. 

MOLIERE 

You're  right;  you're  right,  La  Forest.     Because 
of  that  I  am  still  a  comedian. 

[And  as  she  looks  at  him  a  smile  that  would 
hide  his  infinite  weariness  comes  into  his 
eyes.]  i 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  199 

LA  FOREST 
The  costumes  needed  little  mending. 

MOLIERE 
Soon  we  will  have  new  ones. 

LA  FOREST 
Soon,  Monsieur? 

MOLIERE 
For  the  new  season  in  the  spring. 

LA  FOREST 

[Steadying  her  voice.] 

In  the  spring?      [She  is  over  at  the  brazier.] 
Ah,  how  good  it  smells! 

MOLIERE 

Why  do  you  keep  your  back  turned?     Is  there 
something  in  your  face  that  you  would  not  have  me 


see? 


LA  FOREST 
What  should  there  be?     Can't  you  see  I'm  busy? 

MOLIERE 

Come  here,  La  Forest. 

[And  she  is  over  next  to  him  and  he  has 
again  taken  her  hand  and  sits  for  a  moment 
silently  gazing  at  her.] 


200  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

MOLIERE 

So,  so,  your  eyes  are  a  little  damp  but  deep  down 
your  soul  is  smiling  as  it  has  for  all  these  years. 
You  have  done  well,  my  friend,  for  whilst  we,  the 
wise  ones,  have  hurt  our  hearts  seeking  for  happi 
ness,  you,  every  day,  year  in,  year  out,  in  your  sim 
ple  duty  have  lit  the  candles  for  the  play. 

LA  FOREST 

[Brusquely.] 
The  price  of  candles  is  going  up. 

MOLIERE 

You  have  been  as  a  silent  priestess  of  light  at 
the  holy  altar  of  our  laughter,  and  it  is  well  to 
laugh,  to  laugh  lest  man  remembering — 
[His  voice  falters.] 

LA  FOREST 
You  will  be  tired  before  the  play. 

MOLIERE 

I  have  known  much  joy  and  sorrow,  La  Forest, 
but  it  is  best  to  remember  what  is  best.  See,  I  have 
bid  that  tipsy  Claude  still  live,  and  why?  Because 
I — even  I,  who  feel  the  mirthless  shadows  crowd 
ing  round  me,  know  that  the  fight  of  life  is  splendid 
till  the  end.  [He  is  up.]  We  shall  have  new  can- 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  201 

dies  for  the  comedy  today  and  they  shall  laugh,  all 
of  them,  out  there.     They  shall  laugh. 

[And  it  is  as  though  the  house  with  eager 
eyes  were  there  before  him.] 

LA  FOREST 

Master,  you  are  tired.  Shall  I  not  tell  them  to 
close  the  ticket  window? 

MOLIERE 

Why,  no;  I  never  was  more  ready.  Today  I 
might  be  the  Moliere  of  the  years  gone  by.  Do  you 
remember,  La  Forest,  how  in  the  old  days  you  used 
to  sit  there  at  the  cart's  end  in  the  sunlight  ever  sew 
ing? 

LA  FOREST 
I  do,  master. 

MOLIERE 

Life,  too,  is  that  expert  seamstress,  ever  changing 
the  sackcloth  of  yesterday  into  the  motley  of  to 
morrow.  But  we  must  not  look  too  closely  for 
sometimes  those  bright  red  patche?  m  the  domino 
are  but  the  torn  hearts  of  men. 

LA  FOREST 

[Swiftly,  so  as  to  hide  what  is  beginning 
in  her  voice.] 
Your  soup  is  ready. 

[She  brings  it  over  to  him.] 


202  MOLIERE  [Acr  III 

MOLIERE 

[Sipping  it.] 
How  good  it  tastes! 

LA  FOREST 

I  learnt  to  make  it  this  way  years  ago  at  Lyons. 
Do  you  think  we'll  play  at  Lyons  soon  again? 

MOLIERE 
At  Lyons,  soon  again?     Who  knows? 

LA  FOREST 

[Carefully,  feeling  her  way.] 
It  was  there  for  the  first  time  that  Mme.  Made 
leine  was  ill  and  the  part — was — played — by — 
[Suddenly  MOLIERE  has  straightened  in  his  chair.] 
Monsieur,  let's  go  back  to  Auteuil. 

MOLIERE 
No,  the  country  is  desolate  in  winter. 

LA  FOREST 

When  the  fair  is  over  maybe  not  half  the  places 
will  sell  and  in  Auteuil,  well,  what  difference? 

MOLIERE 
This.    I  am  Moliere,  and  Paris  is  still  my  throne. 

LA  FOREST 

A  month  there  in  the  quiet  and  all  will  be  well 
again. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  203 

MOLIERE 

Why  waste  a  month  when  your  broth  revives  me 
now?  It  is  time  to  dress. 

[He  has  got  up  but  weakly  sinks  back  into 
his  chair.] 

LA  FOREST 
Monsieur. 

MOLIERE 
Well? 

LA  FOREST 

You're  still  quite —  [And  then  because  of  the 
look  in  his  face  she  changes  suddenly]  I  think  the 
woman  who  plays  Toinette  does  it  well. 

MOLIERE 

Why  do  you  switch?  I  know  what's  troubling 
you. 

LA  FOREST 

Not  that,  Monsieur.  The  doctor  says  you're 
really  well  again. 

MOLIERE 

Of  course.  Listen,  some  of  the  audience  are 
coming. 

LA  FOREST 

No,  some  of  the  actors  are  entering  by  the  door 
beyond  the  stage.  The  days  seems  shorter  here  in 
Paris.  It's  not  yet  five.  [His  head  drops  forward 


204  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

a  little.']      Master,  do  not  play  today.     Will  you 
not  listen  to  me?     I  have  loved  you  like  a  mother. 

MOLIERE 

That  love  at  least  is  past  corrupting. 
[He  has  sunk  deeper  in  his  chair.] 

LA  FOREST 

Go  in,  lie  down ;  I'll  wake  you  in  time  before  the 
play. 

MOLIERE 

No,  fetch  my  wig  and  make-up  now. 

[She  exits  into  his  dressing-room  For  a 
moment,  his  eyes  half  closed,  he  leans  back 
murmuring  to  himself.] 

LA  FOREST 

[Entering.] 

Come  to  your  room,  Master;  see  how  tired  you 
are. 

[He  doesn't  answer.  She  comes  over  and 
puts  his  wig  and  make-up  on  the  little  table 
that  is  near  him.] 

LA  FOREST 

There,  he's  sleeping.  [She  bends  over  him,  very 
gently,  like  an  anxious  mother.]  My  son!  My 
son! 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  205 

[For  a  little  while  she  stands  watching  him, 
wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  Then  Co- 
LINGE  enters,  a  basket  on  his  arm.]  . 

LA  FOREST 
Shhh!     He's  sleeping.    What  have  you  brought? 

COLINGE 
A  goose  liver  and  patties  and  some  almond  tarts. 

LA  FOREST 

[Scolding  him  in  a  whisper.] 
What  a  fool  you  are!      Do  you  think  we're  going 
to  feed  the  King's  fat  jailer?     Goose,  indeed,  and 
patties.     If  it  weren't  for  the  noise  I'd  fling  them 
at  your  stupid  head. 

COLINGE 

[Delving  in  the  basket.] 
And  here  are  eggs  and  half  a  chicken. 

LA  FOREST 
Well,  that's  nearer  right. 

COLINGE 

It's  like  you  women  to  judge  a  man  before  the 
basket's  empty. 

LA  FOREST 

And  like  you  men  to  have  nothing  in  the  basket 
that's  worth  the  judging. 


206  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

COLINGE 

There's  some  news. 

LA  FOREST 

Who  cares?  Since  when  has  there  not  been 
news?  The  serpent  started  news  in  Eden. 

COLINGE 
They  were  whispering  at  the  pastry  shop. 

LA  FOREST 
Well? 

COLINGE 
So  you  do  want  to  hear  it  after  all? 

LA  FOREST 

No,  you  poor  old  man.  [She  is  leaning  towards 
him.]  I'm  waiting  to  hear  you  sing  the  psalms  in 
Turkish. 

[They  are  laughing  quietly  together  and 
MOLIERE  has  awakened  and  is  listening.] 

LA  FOREST 
Well,  what  is  it? 

COLINGE 
Who  do  you  think  was  at  the  pastry  shop? 

LA  FOREST 
Any  one  of  all  the  fools  in  Paris. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  207 

COLINGE 

Baron. 

LA  FOREST 
Baron? 

COLINGE 

And  his  tongue  was  wagging  about  the  company 
at  the  Bourgogne. 

LA  FOREST 

They  have  done  nothing.     The  troupe  of  Moliere 
is  still  the  greatest  troupe  in  France. 

COLINGE 
Fat  in  fame,  La  Forest,  but  thin  in  favour. 

LA  FOREST 

Shhh!     What  if  he  should  hear  you?     What  was 
the  boy  saying? 

COLINGE 

There's   an  intrigue  at  the  palace  to  reinstate 
Moliere. 

LA  FOREST 

Go  on;  go  on.     WTiy  do  you  lick  the  words  with 
your  tongue? 

COLINGE 

I  cannot  talk  as  quickly  as  you  listen. 

LA  FOREST 
Well,  what  is  it?     Who  has  spoken  to  the  King? 


208  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

COLINGE 

No  one  knows  from  whence  or  how  it  came.     But 
they  hint  some  woman's  in  it. 

LA  FOREST 
Well?     Well? 

COLINGE 

They  say  some  one  has  tried  to  reach  His  Majesty 
to  crave  pardon  for  Moliere,  and  that  the  King— 

MOLIERE 

[Suddenly  springing  up.] 

Who  has  dared  do  that?     Is  not  my  soul  my 
own? 

COLINGE 

God  forgive  me,  master.     I  thought  you  were 
asleep. 

LA  FOREST 

Now  look  what  you've  done  with  your  gossip. 
Master,  be  calm;  be  calm. 

[And  MOLIERE  stands  beside  his  table,  his 
hand  reaching  for  his  chair.] 

LA  FOREST 

Colinge,  see  how  pale  he  is.     Master,  master. 
MOLIERE 

There,   I'm  better.      [He  has  seated  himself.] 
What  was  the  lad  saying,  Colinge? 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  209 

COLINGE 

Nothing;  that  was  all. 

LA  FOREST 
Master,  you  must  rest. 

MOLIERE 

That  was  all,  Colinge? 

[And  he  is  looking  at  him  so  directly  that 
the  old  man  turns  away.] 

COLINGE 

Yes.  [A  pause.  He  is  seeking  a  way  out  for 
he  doesnt  want  to  tell  the  rest.]  Do  we  play  the 
new  scenes  tonight? 

MOLIERE 
Yes. 

COLINGE 

I'd  best  see  to  my  lines  then.  My  head  is  none 
too  good  at  best. 

[He  is  about  to  go.] 

MOLIERE 

If  you  slip,  I'll  improvise  to  help  you.  I  will 
not  pause  or  hesitate  as  you  do  now.  What  was 
Baron  saying? 

LA  FOREST 

It's  almost  curtain  time.     You  should  be  dressed. 


210  MOLIERE  [Aer  III 

MOLIERE 

That's  easily  done.  Only  Argan's  wrapper  over 
these  same  trousers  here.  [Then  to  COLINGE.] 
Well,  my  friend? 

COLINGE 
Master — 

[He  falters.] 

MOLIERE 
Well? 

LA  FOREST 

[Seeing  the  fear  in  the  old  mans  eyes.] 
The  fire  is  low.     It's  bitter  cold  in  here.     Co- 
linge,  fetch  me  some  wood  that's  in  the  passage 
there. 

[ COLINGE  starts  to  go.] 

MOLIERE 

Colinge,  come  over  here.  I  know  the  news  you 
have  to  tell. 

COLINGE 
There  is  none. 

MOLIERE 
His  Majesty  is  coming  to  the  play. 

LA  FOREST 
No,  master,  not  that,  not  that! 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  211 

MOLIERE 

Why  not?     I  am  Moliere;  I  am  ready  to  forgive. 

LA  FOREST 

Colinge,  is  it  so? 

COLINGE 

I— I- 

LA  FOREST 

[Seeing  how  the  old  man  hesitates.] 
Master,  master,  later.    Listen,  some  of  the  people 
are  coming. 

MOLIERE 
The  truth? 

COLINGE 

Master,  I  cannot  lie  to  you. 

MOLIERE 
Well,  then— 

COLINGE 

They  were  whispering  at  the  cake  shop  that  His 
Majesty  refused  to  grant  an  audience. 

MOLIERE 
What's  that,  Colinge? 

COLINGE 

And  Baron  says  that  this  afternoon  the  King  goes 
to  see  Racine's  tragedy  at  the  Bourgogne. 


212  MOLIERE  [Acx  III' 

MOLIERE 

[Vaguely  repeating  his  ivords.] 
Racine — the  King— 

LA  FOREST 

[He  tries  to  get  up  but  his  strength  fails 
him.] 

He  is  ill,  ill.  Tell  them  at  the  window  that  the 
play  is  off.  Send  one  of  the  actors  in  to  help  carry 
him  to  bed. 

COLINGE 

Yes,  that  will  be  best. 

[But  suddenly  MOLIERE  has  sprung  up  and 
with  a  flash  of  his  ancient  power  he  speaks.] 

MOLIERE 

No,  wait,  La  Forest.  Stand  at  the  curtain.  We 
play  today.  [And  there  is  something  about  him 
that  makes  them  crouch  back  in  terror.]  Go;  do 
as  I  bid  you. 

COLINGE 

[His  hand  stretched  out  to  him.] 
Master. 

MOLIERE 

[Gently.] 
Dress,  sir,  or  you  will  be  late. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  213 

LA  FOREST 

[Her  voice  frightened.] 
You'll  play,  Monsieur? 

MOLIERE 

Yes,  for  whilst  this  afternoon  His  Majesty  and 
the  Court  are  at  the  Bourgogne  for  Racine's  trag 
edy,  I,  Moliere,  here  at  the  Palais  Royal  will  play 
my  "Invalid," — my  comedy — for  the  people  of 
Paris  who  have  come  up  for  the  fair.  [And  from 
utter  exhaustion  he  has  sunk  into  his  seat.  Then 
as  he  slowly"  lifts  his  head  and  the  curtain  is  fall 
ing.]  Light  the  candles,  La  Forest;  I  am  ready. 

When  the  curtain  lifts,  LA  FOREST  is  at  the  door  to 
the  left  that  leads  to  the  stage.  She  is  watch 
ing  the  performance.  When  the  door  is 
opened  there  can  be  heard  from  beyond  the 
confused  voices  of  the  actors  and  the  applause 
and  laughter  of  the  audience.  CHAPELLE  en 
ters  from  the  right.] 

CHAPELLE 
How's  it  going,  La  Forest? 

LA  FOREST 

Well,  why  aren't  you  out  in  front?  Is  there  no 
room?  A 


214  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

CHAPELLE 
Too  much. 

LA  FOREST 
Why  do  you  come  back  here? 

CHAPELLE 

[Glancing  at  the  table.] 
It's  cosier. 

[He  has  taken  up  a  bottle  but  finds   it 
empty.] 

LA  FOREST 
I  thought  you  were  going  to  jump  into  the  river. 

CHAPELLE 

Old  woman,  you  are  vindictive.  Don't  you  like 
me  about? 

LA  FOREST 

I,  Monsieur?  Of  course;  you're  about  as  wel 
come  as  salt  to  a  wound. 

CHAPELLE 
Thanks. 

LA  FOREST 

What  do  you  thank  me  for?  If  I  didn't  know 
you  loved  the  master  I'd  never  let  you  pass  that 
door. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  215 

CHAPELLE 

[Seriously.] 
Jean  should  not  have  played  today. 

LA  FOREST 

What  could  I  do?  We  begged  him  but  he  would 
not  listen. 

CHAPELLE 

Is  there  any  danger? 

LA  FOREST 
How  should  I  know? 

CHAPELLE 

You  are  always  whispering  in  the  corner  with  the 
doctor.  Women  always  do  that;  I  think  they  like 
it. 

LA  FOREST 

What  do  you  know  about  women  or  anything  else 
except  the  bottom  of  an  empty  glass? 

CHAPELLE 

That  reminds  me.  Is  there  still  a  bottle  that's 
unfinished? 

LA  FOREST 

See  for  yourself.  [She  points  to  the  cupboard 
and  then  opens  the  door  to  the  stage  a  little.  A 


MOLIERE  [ACT  III 

sound  of  laughter  is  heard  from  the  front.}     It's 
going  well. 

CHAPELLE 

[Stopping  on  his  way  to  the  cupboard.} 
How  does  he  seem,  La  Forest? 

LA  FOREST 
It's  near  the  last  scene;  I  think  all  will  be  well. 

[CHAPELLE  has  taken  up  the  bottle  but  sud 
denly  he  puts  it  down  and  comes  over  to  her.} 

CHAPELLE 
I'll  watch  with  you. 

LA  FOREST 

Listen,  now  he's  speaking.  His  voice  is  stronger, 
isn't  it? 

CHAPELLE 

Yes,  it  seems  so.  You  must  not  let  him  act  to 
morrow.  Take  him  to  Auteuil;  make  him  rest. 
Keep  him  there;  I  will  come  and  see  you. 

LA  FOREST 

Why,  Monsieur?  We  brought  all  the  best  wine 
up  to  Paris  with  us. 

CHAPELLE 
Your  heart  is  hard,  old  woman. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  217 

LA  FOREST 

I've  made  it  so  lest  life  should  break  it.  [  Then 
looking  through  to  the  stage.]  If  only  he  is  strong 
enough  to  finish. 

[CoLiNGE  enters  from  the  stage.] 

LA  FOREST 
How  is  he?     We  cannot  see  well  from  here. 

COLINGE 

Give  me  his  robe.  It's  cold  off  stage  when  he 
makes  his  exit. 

LA  FOREST 

[Handing  it  to  him.] 
How  is  he?     Has  he  spoken  to  you? 

COLINGE 

Yes,  he  seems  better.  The  comedy  is  going  well. 
He  has  them  in  his  hand.  He  is  happy.  He  need 
but  lift  his  little  finger  and  they  laugh. 

CHAPELLE 
Are  there  more  out  in  the  theatre  than  last  night? 

COLINGE 
No,  I  do  not  think  as  many. 

LA  FOREST 
Has  he  cut  at  all? 


218  MOLIERE  [ACT  III 

COLINGE 

No,  he  plays  each  scene  a  little  slowly,  that  is  all. 

LA  FOREST 

[Opening  the  door  a  bit.] 
Listen! 

[A  pause.     From  the  front  the  low  murmur 
of  voices  is  heard,  then  laughter.] 

LA  FOREST 
Surely  he's  the  greatest  actor  in  the  world. 

COLINGE 
Look,  that's  new  business.     He's  sitting  up. 

CHAPELLE 
I  cannot  see. 

LA  FOREST 
Go  'round  in  front. 

CHAPELLE 
But- 

LA  FOREST 
There'll  be  wine  for  supper.     Come  back  later. 

CHAPELLE 
You  don't  hate  me  after  all,  do  you? 

LA  FOREST 
No,  get  out.     And  if  you  feel  like  laughing  at 


ACT  III]  MOLIEPxE  219 

the  comedy,  why,  laugh,  even  though  you  are  a 
friend. 

[CHAPELLE  exits.] 

COLINGE 
Has  Armande  come? 

LA  FOREST 
Not  yet. 

COLINGE 

I  will  go  back  now.  I  like  to  be  behind  his  chair 
waiting  when  he  comes  off.  He  may  need  some 
thing. 

[THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE  en 
ters  from  the  stage.] 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 

Here,  please,  help  me  change  this. 

[  They  help  her  to  put  on  the  DOCTOR'S  robe 
over  her  servant's  dress.] 

LA  FOREST 
Is  he  very  tired? 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 
No,  he's  acting  well.     There's  something  about  it 
all  I  can't  make  out. 

LA  FOREST 
What?     What? 


220  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 

I  do  not  know.  It's  as  though  he  poured  his  life 
into  every  word  he's  saying.  Where  is  the  syringe? 
When  I  enter  with  it  that  business  always  gets  a 
laugh. 

LA  FOREST 

[Handing  the  "prop"  to  her.] 
Here. 

COLINGE 

Hurry  on ;  that's  your  cue. 

[THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE  ex 
its.] 

LA  FOREST 

As  though  he  poured  his  life  into  it.  She  does 
not  know  what  she  is  saying.  Listen,  go  to  the  win 
dow.  Isn't  that  a  coach  stopping  at  the  door? 

COLINGE 
I  hear  nothing. 

LA  FOREST 
Go  see. 

COLINGE 

[At  the  window,  looking  out.] 
You  are  right.     It  is  Armande;  she  has  come 
back. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  221 

LA  FOREST 

She  has  come  back.     To  what,  Colinge?     Now 
go;  he  may  need  you. 

[And  COLINGE  exits  to  the  stage.  Then  she 
draws  the  curtain  across  the  door  and  turns  to 
face  ARMANDE.] 

LA  FOREST 

Madame,  madame. 

[A  pause.  ARMANDE  is  standing  furtively 
on  the  threshold,  uncertain  what  to  do,  what  to 
say.] 

LA  FOREST 

Armande,  come  to  me.     Have  you  forgotten  that 
I  have  been  your  nurse? 

ARMANDE 

[In  her  arms.] 
La  Forest!     La  Forest! 

LA  FOREST 
There,  there,  now  you're  a  little  girl  again. 

ARMANDE 

Does  he  know  that  I  am  here? 

LA  FOREST 
Later,  after  the  play,  we  will  tell  him. 


222  MOLIERE  [ACT  III 

ARMANDE 

I  have  ridden  twice  to  the  theatre  and  then  turned 
back.  I  have  been  afraid.  I  stood  on  the  quays 
down  at  the  river.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  as 
though  that  would  be  best.  Everything  was  drift 
ing  away  to  forgetfulness.  I  went  nearer.  I 
leaned  over  and  then  suddenly  in  one  of  the  barges 
a  woman  began  to  sing  and  then  life  struck  in  at 
my  heart  all  red  and  warm  and  the  desire  to  live 
was  more  terrible  than  the  will  to  die.  I  have  been 
walking  for  an  hour,  back  and  forth,  up  and  down, 
up  and  down,  through  the  streets  and  then  I  found 
myself  in  a  church  somewhere  across  the  river  and 
suddenly  the  words  of  a  prayer  came  to  me  and 
I  thanked  God  for  the  song  of  the  barge  woman 
and  then  I  came  here. 

LA  FOREST 
Madame. 

ARMANDE 
Let  me  go  to  him. 

LA  FOREST 
In  a  little  while  now  the  play  will  be  over. 

ARMANDE 

Jean,  Jean.  Why,  see;  everything  is  as  it  used 
to  be.  [She  is  at  his  table.]  Look,  a  comedy. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  223 

His  quill.      [She  takes  up  some  of  the  sheets  of  the 
manuscript.]      The  ink  is  hardly  dry. 

LA  FOREST 

Madame,  those  are  the  little  things,  the  little 
quiet  things  that  save  and  steady  the  crazy  world 
when  men,  their  hearts  gone  mad,  rush  about  like 
frightened  children  in  a  shower. 

ARMANDE 

That  is  how  you  used  to  speak  to  me  long  ago. 
it  is  good  to  be  back.  Just  to  hear  his  voice  again, 
to  feel  his  presence  everywhere.  Why,  look;  even 
his  broth  is  waiting  for  him  when  the  play  is  over. 

LA  FOREST 

It  should  be  nearly  finished  now. 

[She  goes  over  to  the  door  and  stands  for  a 
moment  listening.  Then  the  door  opens  and 
instinctively  ARMANDE  steps  back  behind  the 
fireplace.  THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  Toi- 
NETTE  enters,  taking  off  the  DOCTOR'S  robe.] 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 

It's  hard  to  keep  pace  with  him  now.  He's  play 
ing  with  such  spirit.  Where  are  the  props  for  the 
ballet? 

LA  FOREST 

Here.      [And  she  hands  the  woman  a  bundle  of 


224  MOLIERE  [ACT  III 

books  and  some  tall  black  hats.]     See  if  there  isn't 
some  way  to  cut  the  business  short;  he  seems  tired. 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 
No,  he's  all  right. 

[And  she  exits.] 

ARMANDE 

La  Forest,  when  that  door  opened  I  was  fright 
ened.  It  might  be  better  if — if —  [She  has  taken 
a  step  toward  the  door  to  the  street.]  Now  that  I 
have  come  I  am  frightened.  I  will  not  be  able  to 
tell  him  all. 

LA  FOREST 
After  a  while  perhaps,  Madame,  little  by  little. 

ARMANDE 

Every  night  I  have  been  on  my  knees  praying  for 
God's  forgiveness  and  for  his.  Is  there  a  hope,  La 
Forest,  that  he  will  take  me  back? 

LA  FOREST 

Though  he  has  not  spoken  your  name  I  think  he 
has  been  waiting  for  your  coming. 

ARMANDE 
Jean,  Jean. 

LA  FOREST 

But  you  must  be  weary,  Armande.  You  have 
ridden  all  the  day.  Come  here ;  sit  by  the  fire. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  225 

[A  moment  after  THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS 
TOINETTE  enters.] 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 

[Not  seeing  ARMANDE.] 
La  Forest,  help  me  off  with  this. 

LA  FOREST 
[Low,  to  the  woman.] 
How  is  he? 

THE  ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE 

I  cannot  make  it  out.  Sometimes  the  scene  goes 
swiftly,  sometimes  slow.  Quick,  I  have  another 
entrance  now. 

[She  exits.] 

ARMANDE 
Are  there  many  out  in  front? 

LA  FOREST 

Not  many  and  in  the  old  days  all  Paris  waited, 
eager  for  his  comedies,  but  now — 

ARMANDE 
Things  have  gone  badly? 

LA  FOREST 

For  months,  Madame.  Not  once  in  all  the  time 
you've  been  gone  has  he  been  summoned  to  the 


226  MOLIERE  [Acr  III 

Palace.     Some   quarrel,    Madame,    something   of 
which  we  do  not  know.    Those  happy  days  are  over. 

ARMANDE 
You  are  wrong. 

LA  FOREST 
What,  Madame? 

ARMANDE 
Those  days  will  come  back. 

LA  FOREST 
How,  when  we  are  forgotten  at  the  Louvre? 

ARMANDE 
Soon,  La  Forest.     I  have  seen  the  King. 

LA  FOREST 
[In  amazement.] 
What,  Madame? 

ARMANDE 

This  morning.  Boileau  gained  me  admittance 
to  His  Majesty.  I  have  craved  his  pardon.  Old 
memories  were  awakened.  He  has  forgiven  Mo- 
liere.  He  is  coming  to  the  play. 

LA  FOREST 
Madame,  when,  when? 

ARMANDE 
This  afternoon. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  227 

LA  FOREST 

Oh,  God  be  praised.  Armande,  you've  not  come 
empty-handed.  You've  brought  your  love  back  to 
the  master  and  the  favour  of  the  King.  God  grant 
he  come  in  time.  [She  rushes  over  to  the  door  to 
the  stage  and  stands  listening.  From  the  front 
comes  the  confused  murmur  of  voices.]  Oh,  Ma 
dame,  if  it  could  all  be  as  it  used  to  be!  [Sud 
denly  she  starts  back.]  Madame,  Madame! 

ARMANDE 

What  is  it,  La  Forest? 

LA  FOREST 

[Her  voice  trembling.] 

Some  one  has  missed  a  cue.  Now  it  is  all  right 
again.  [She  has  turned  and  has  swiftly  shut  the 
door  as  ARMANDE  comes  toward  her.]  Sit  down, 
Madame;  no,  there  by  the  fire. 

ARMANDE 

La  Forest,  what  is  it;  your  face  is  suddenly  so 
white? 

LA  FOREST 

Nothing;  we  are  worried.  People  do  not  come 
and  the  master — he — he — must  rest.  This  endless 
playing — 


228  MOLIERE  [Aer  III 

ARMANDE 

We  will  care  for  him,  you  and  I.      [From  the 
front  sounds  the  din  of  voices.]      It  is  going  well. 
[She  steps  nearer  the  door.] 

LA  FOREST 
Madame,  do  not  open  that  door. 

ARMANDE 

Why,  how  strange  you  act.     I've  often  watched 
the  plays  from  here. 

LA  FOREST 

The  master  has  given  orders.     No  one  is  to  come 
or  go. 

ARMANDE 
From  here  we  can  catch  a  glimpse. 

LA  FOREST 
Madame,  Madame! 

ARMANDE 

Why,  what's  the  matter? 

[She  has  passed  LA  FOREST.] 

LA  FOREST 

Do  as  you  will.     Words  cannot  alter  what  is  to 
be. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  229 

ARMANDE 

[Nearer  the  door.] 

I  will  open  it  only  a  little,  La  Forest.     No  light 
will  strike  him. 

LA  FOREST 
Madame,  Madame! 

ARMANDE 

What  is  it,  La  Forest? 

[The    voices    beyond   grow    louder.     AR 
MANDE  rushes  to  the  door.] 

LA  FOREST 

[Stopping  her.] 
Madame,  don't,  don't. 

ARMANDE 
Why  not? 

LA  FOREST 
He- 

ARMANDE 
What? 

LA  FOREST 

Oh,  God!  it's  as  I  feared.  I  thought  there  might 
be  some  hope,  Madame;  that  is  why  I  said  nothing. 
But  now,  now — 


230  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

ARMANDE 

[Almost    fiercely,     catching    her    by    the 
wrists.] 

What?     What?     Look  at  me.     I  am  no  longer 
little  Armande. 

LA  FOREST 

[And  her  voice  is  hardly  audible.] 
Armande — the  Master — 

ARMANDE 

[Stumbling  back  weakly  against  the  table.] 
Is  it  that — that? 

LA  FOREST 

Yes.     It  is  the  last  scene  he  will  ever  act.     He  is 
playing  with  his  life. 

ARMANDE 

[Sinking  into  MOLIERE'S  chair  at  the  table.] 
Jean!     Jean! 

[CHAPELLE  and  LA  FONTAINE  enter  from 
the  street.     At  first  they  do  not  see  ARMANDE.] 

LA  FONTAINE 
Jean  is  very  weak.     The  play  cannot  go  on. 

ARMANDE 

[Stepping  forward.] 
Tell  them  to  draw  the  curtain. 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  231 

LA  FONTAINE 
You  have  come  back,  Armande? 

ARMANDE 

Yes,  La  Fontaine,  but  too  late, — too  late. 

COLINGE 

[Entering  from  the  stage.] 

I  can  watch  no  longer.  They  think  he's  acting. 
They  shriek  with  laughter  and  when  he  falters  for 
his  lines  they  jeer  at  him.  Ring  down  the  curtain; 
it's  the  end,  the  end. 

LA  FOREST 

[Flinging  open  the  door  to  the  stage.] 
Master!     Master!     Listen,   the  people  are   an 
gry;   they   are   shouting.     He's  coming.     Master, 
master! 

LA  FONTAINE 

[Gently  to  ARMANDE.] 

The  shock  may  be  too  sudden  if  he  sees  you  now. 
Wait  in  there;  we  will  call  you. 

[ARMANDE  exits  into  MOLIERE'S  dressing- 
room  and  the  next  moment  MOLIERE  enters 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  DOCTOR  and  THE 
ACTRESS  WHO  PLAYS  TOINETTE.  The  other 
actors,  in  the  fantastic  costumes  of  the  ballet, 
crowd  into  the  entrance  from  the  stage.] 


232  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

MOLIERE 

[Staggering  on  the  steps.] 

See,  see;  I'm  better.  I  knew  there  was  no  dan 
ger  in  my  comedy  in  counterfeiting  death.  There, 
I'm  better.  Did  it  go  well? 

[They  have  led  him  to  his  chair  at  the 
table.] 

LA  FOREST 

Lie  back,  master. 

[She  wraps  the  robe  about  him.] 

THE  DOCTOR 

[Quietly  to  the  others.] 

Stand  back,  all  of  you.  Golinge,  quickly,  that 
stool  for  his  feet,  and  now  some  water. 

MOLIERE 

La  Forest,  tell  them  we  rehearse  at  ten  tomorrow ; 
remember — ten.  [And  now  he  lies  back  weakly  in 
his  chair,  his  hand  moving  vaguely  in  front  of 
him.]  That  scene  in  my  new  comedy  would  be 
better  thus.  [He  feels  in  the  air  about  him.  At 
a  sign  from  the  DOCTOR,  LA  FOREST  brings  him 
some  sheets  of  his  manuscript  and  his  quill.] 
Yes,  better  thus.  [For  a  moment  he  sits  in  thought, 
then  a  smile  comes  into  his  eye  and  he  writes  a 
word  or  two.]  What  do  you  think,  La  Forest? 
It's  nearer  life  like  this,  isn't  it?  Listen.  [And 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  233 

with  a  trembling  voice  he  reads  what  he  has  writ 
ten.]  "Madame,  do  you  think  it  matters  how  many 
lovers  you  may  have  had?"  [Then  the  quill  falls 
from  his  hand  and  the  papers  flutter  to  the  floor.] 
How  cold,  how  cold  it  is! 

LA  FOREST 
Master,  your  broth  is  waiting. 

MOLIERE 

[His  hand  stretching  out  to  reach  it.] 
Yes,   give  it  to  me.     She  makes  her  soup  as 
strong  as  brandy,  Claude;  you  best  remember  that, 
as  strong  as  brandy. 

THE  DOCTOR 

[Pouring  something  from  a  little  flask  into 
the  water  which  COLINGE  has  brought  him.] 
Here,  sir,  drink  this. 

MOLIERE 

What?  You  would  keep  me  living,  sir? 
There's  some  quaint  contradiction  in  it  all.  How 
often  have  I  killed  you  doctors  in  my  plays  and 
now  you'd  have  me  live,  now  when  I  am  ready  to 
play  the  last  great  role  which  has  no  lines  nor  any 
business  in  it.  How  cold  it  is!  I'm  dying  of  the 
cold. 


234  MOLIERE  [ACT  III 

LA  FOREST 

No,  master,  by  tomorrow — 

[ARMANDE  is  in  the  door  behind  him,  un 
seen,  her  arms  stretched  out  to  him.] 

MOLIERE 

By  tomorrow,  La  Forest, — do  you  remember  all 
those  tomorrows  of  the  long  ago?  Listen;  that's 
the  switch  of  the  whip.  How  sweet  the  air  is  on  the 
high-roads!  We  are  going  on,  on.  Look,  the 
broad,  white,  swaying  backs  of  the  oxen — and  over 
there,  over  there,  Colinge,  in  the  valley  is  the  tower 
in  the  market-place.  Don't  worry,  Colinge ;  it  isn't 
going  to  rain.  See,  the  clouds  are  blowing  over. 
There'll  be  a  crowd  and  we'll  do  business. 

THE  DOCTOR 
Sir,  you're  very  weak.     Lie  back. 

MOLIERE 

[His  voice  for  a  moment  stern  as  though  he 
were  addressing  his  company.'] 
My  friends,  act  your  best  today.     The  troupe  of 
Moliere  is  playing  at  the  Louvre.      [And  then  sud 
denly  he  has  straightened  in  his  chair.]      What, 
Sire,  it's  this  command  that  matters?    I'll  no  longer 
be  a  lackey  to  your  laughter.     For  now — the  truth 
—the  truth — but  what  matter  all  of  that?      [And 
his  voice  is  hardly  audible.]     Armande,  Armande! 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  235 

[And  ARMANDE  breaks  from  LA  FONTAINE 
who  is  trying  to  restrain  her  and  rushes  over 
and  throws  herself  at  MOLIERE'S  feet. 

ARMANDE 

Jean,  Jean! 

MOLIERE 

[His  hand  before  him  as  though  to  prove  to 
his  dying  mind  that  it  is  she.]      Armande,  is  it 
you?     Madame,  it  is  time  to  dress.     The  play  is 
beginning. 

ARMANDE 

Jean,  Jean,  see  I  have  come  back  to  you,  to  you 
and  to  your  love. 

MOLIERE 

[Suddenly  the  truth  comes  to  him  and  he 
bends  forward  and  clasps  her  in  his  arms.] 
Armande,  Armande,  only  for  this  little  moment 
in  eternity.     Armande,  Armande! 

[Then  for  a  little  space  there  is  silence 
which  is  broken  by  the  rumbling  of  a  coach 
across  the  cobbles.] 

CHAPELLE 
[At  the  window.] 
Jean,  the  King,  the  King! 

MOLIERE 
Armande, — Armande — 


236  MOLIERE  [Acx  III 

COLINGE 

Master,  if  you  love  us  do  not  speak. 

MOLIERE 

Listen,  now  I  hear  their  laughter.  [And  with 
his  last  strength  he  has  risen.]  See,  all  of  them 
out  there,  all  of  them  for  ever.  [And  he  steadies 
himself  as  though  to  take  his  curtain  call.]  I  hear 
their  laughter,  their  gay — bright — laugh — 

[And  as  he  falls  back  dead  in  his  chair ,  his 
arm  strikes  the  table  next  to  him  and  from  it 
rattle  to  the  floor  his  mirror  and  his  box  of 
make-up.] 

LA  FOREST 

[Throwing   herself   on   her   knees   before 
him.] 
Master,  master! 

[And  at  this  moment  the  KING'S  CHAMBER 
LAIN  enters  pompously  and  noisily  to  an 
nounce  His  Majesty.] 

THE  KING'S  CHAMBERLAIN 

His  Majesty  the  King.     Make  way  for  the  King! 
[The  people  standing  near  the  entrance  to 
the  stage  fall  back  and  the  next  minute  Louis 
stands  between  the  curtains.] 

Louis 

Moliere — 


ACT  III]  MOLIERE  237 

LA  FONTAINE 
Sire,  you  have  come  too  late. 

Louis 

Sir,  I  am  the  King  of  France. 
LA  FONTAINE 
[Quietly,  with  lifted  hand.] 
Too  late — for  death,  the  King  of  Kings,  is  here. 
[And  as  LA  FONTAINE  steps  back  all  the 
people  on  the  stage  fall  to  their  knees  and 
Louis  alone  stands  facing  the  chair  where 
MOLIERE  lies.] 

Louis 
Moliere  is  dead? 

COLINGE 
Master,  master — 

ARMANDE 
Jean,  Jean! 

[And  his  dead  arms  are  closed  about  her.] 

Louis 

[Lifting  his  hat  for  the  first  time  in  the 
theatre  of  MOLIERE.] 

Moliere  is  dead  but  in  his  name  will  live  for  ever 
the  gay  spirit,  the  brave  laughter  and  the  uncon- 
quered  heart  of  France. 

[And  as  he  bends  before  the  dead  body  of 
MOLIERE  the  curtain  falls.] 

THE    END 


14  DAY  USE 

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